


Plumage

by DeathBelle



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anxiety, But a lot of fluff, Club!AU, College Student!Goshiki, College!AU, Exotic Dancer!Shirabu, Explicit Language, Getting Together, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Most of the boys are dancers, Sexual Content, a touch of angst, alcohol use, background TenSemi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-03-07 08:51:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 61,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18869857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathBelle/pseuds/DeathBelle
Summary: Goshiki had thought his first trip to the club would also be his last. He only wanted to take a look, have the experience, and go home with a better understanding of himself.What he didn't expect was to get hooked on the club; or on one of the dancers.Now he's spending too much money and losing too much sleep, because the club - and Shirabu - is all he can think about.





	1. Chapter 1

Goshiki had never suffered a panic attack, but he had a feeling it was something like this.

He leaned against the brick wall of the building, his heart in his throat and his pulse in his ears. The air was hard to breathe and he scrabbled at his face mask, yanking the strings from behind his ears and tugging it away. It flopped onto the sidewalk but Goshiki didn’t care. He crouched down and pressed his palms against his forehead, thinking only of his breathing. 

This was stupid. He was an adult. He was allowed to go to places like this. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing at all. Goshiki was going to walk into that club and have fun, and he wouldn’t let a little bit of anxiety stop him. 

He told himself that, as he snatched his mask off the ground, shoved it in his pocket, and stood at his full height. He squared his shoulders and strode to the front of the building, determined. 

If he hadn’t already known what the club was, it would have been impossible to guess from a glance. It was a nondescript building with blacked out windows. The sign above the door said “Plumage,” written in neon English. Goshiki didn’t know what it meant, but he didn’t take the time to think it over. He passed beneath the sign and pushed open the door, pretending his heart wasn’t hammering and his fingers weren’t shaking.

He’d expected to be overwhelmed by an onslaught of loud music and bright lights, but the foyer of the club was barren. It was a small room with a glass wall, behind which a woman waited to take his money.

“Cover charge is 2000,” she said, as Goshiki clumsily dug his wallet out of his pocket. “I’ll need your identification, too.”

Goshiki fumbled his money and knelt to scoop it out of the floor. He shoved it through the dip beneath the glass, and the woman frowned at the crinkled wad of yen. As she counted it out, Goshiki bounced on the balls of his feet, trying to burn away some of his nervous energy.

The woman scanned his ID and returned it. “You’re good to go. Have fun.”

It sounded sarcastic, and Goshiki wondered if she was mocking him. It was unlikely. This was her job, after all. Goshiki wasn’t the first person she’d taken money from that night. He was just being paranoid. 

He tucked his ID away, crammed his wallet into his pocket, and approached the plain door at the end of the room. Goshiki stopped in front of it, rubbing his hands against the sides of his jeans to dry off his sweaty palms. He braced himself and pushed against the door.

It didn’t move.

Ten seconds later he realized there was a handle, and when he pulled, it opened easily.

Goshiki checked over his shoulder, relieved that no one had been around to witness that, and stepped into the club. 

It had taken Goshiki a month to talk himself into coming here. During that time, he’d developed a list of expectations. He imagined the club to be loud, flashy, and crammed full of eager customers. He’d been to a nightclub once, when his friends had taken him out for his twentieth birthday a year ago, and his mental picture of this experience heavily reflected that one.

He realized seconds after stepping through the door that the two clubs were nothing alike.

There was music, but it wasn’t deafening. It was loud, but not so loud that Goshiki couldn’t hear himself think. It was an upbeat pulse, blending with the tinted lights that bathed the stage in a luminous glow. The stage itself was the main attraction, but Goshiki couldn’t bring himself to look at it, not yet. He gravitated toward the bar instead, hopping onto one of the tall chairs and staring resolutely ahead, his back toward the stage.

The bartender swaggered over and said, “Can I get you a drink?”

Goshiki blinked at him. He’d been too anxious to think this far ahead. “Yes! I want… umm… Can I maybe get a gin and tonic?” His voice got progressively quieter as he spoke, as the uncertainty settled in.

“Of course.” The bartender gave him a long, unreadable look before turning to make the order. 

Goshiki watched the man’s back, because he still didn’t have the courage to look at the stage. He hoped the alcohol would help with that.

The bartender was tall, even by Goshiki’s standards. It was obvious even beneath his polo that he was muscular. His hair was dark, his shoulders were broad, and he turned around just in time to catch Goshiki staring.

Goshiki tore his eyes away, his face warming. The bartender slid the drink in front of him. Goshiki waited to be asked if he was a pervert, or a creep, but the bartender simply said, “Would you like to start a tab?”

“Oh!” Goshiki whipped his head up, relieved by the question. “Yes! Sure!” He dug out his wallet again and handed over his credit card.

The bartender took it, his stare still boring into Goshiki. “I will hold onto this until you cash out. Tell me when you are ready for another drink. My name is Ushijima.”

Goshiki nodded, because he didn’t trust himself not to say something stupid. 

Ushijima moved away, toward another customer, and Goshiki half-collapsed onto the counter in relief. He dragged his drink close and took a sip out of the tiny straw. That wasn’t enough, so he picked up the glass and took a large gulp instead.

He was halfway through the drink before he worked up the nerve to swivel around and face the room. Even then, it was with his eyes closed, one hand clenched around his glass and the other curled into a fist in his lap.

The current song ended, and a voice filtered through the speakers as another one started up. “Next up on center stage is one of Plumage’s favorites! Let’s welcome Raven!”

Raven. The name gave Goshiki a mental image of dark hair and dark eyes, swaddled in a bundle of feathers. He wondered if that’s what the dancer looked like. The beat picked up, and Goshiki tried to imagine what sort of dance it would be. 

If he opened his eyes, he could find out.

He took a deep breath, steeling himself. He could do this. He was an adult. He wasn’t doing anything wrong. People came to these places all the time. No one was going to judge him. Other men were here too, watching the exact same thing. They were having a good time. Goshiki needed to get himself together and join them.

“Would you like another drink?”

The bartender’s voice was startling. Goshiki jumped, nearly toppled out of his seat, and automatically opened his eyes to steady himself. When he did, the first thing he saw was the dancer called Raven.

There was only one stage in the club, but it was fitted with three poles; one on each end and the third in the direct center. There were dancers at all of them, but Goshiki couldn’t look away from center stage.

He looked nothing like the picture Goshiki’s mind had conjured up. His hair was tawny, bangs falling asymmetrically across his forehead. He wasn’t sturdy or muscular, as Goshiki would have expected. He was thin, his skin smooth and pale. If he’d worn a shirt when he’d stepped on stage, it was gone now. He was bare except for wine red lace, the pattern of it leaving glimpses of the skin beneath. If Goshiki looked really closely, he could almost see-

“Is that a no?”

Goshiki whipped around to face the bar, his face in flames. “Yes! I mean, no! I mean… yes, I’d like another drink, thank you!”

Ushijima’s face didn’t change, but his stare intensified. He kept an eye on Goshiki, even as he mixed the drink. When he delivered it and took Goshiki’s empty glass, he said nothing. Goshiki leaned away from him, intimidated.

Maybe he shouldn’t stay at the bar.

He slipped away and drifted toward one of the small tables along the wall. Most of the customers were gathered closer to the stage, but Goshiki was content to stay back here, where the bartender couldn’t glare at him. Even from further back, his view of the dancers was unimpeded. As a new song started, the DJ announced a new dancer’s name. Goshiki didn’t even register it. His attention was reserved solely for Raven, who had moved to the nearer side of the stage.

Raven had one hand on the pole, head tilted slightly to the side. Goshiki didn’t know what he was doing, until the beat dropped and Raven dropped with it. He rose slowly, hands climbing up the pole, back arched to enhance the swell of his ass beneath dark lace. He bent at the waist, pressed his palms against the floor, and sank into a full split.

The breath left Goshiki as if he’d been punched in the gut. 

Raven looked over his shoulder, and the men seated in the chairs along the edge of the stage. He straightened one leg in front of him and leaned back, dipping into a near backbend as he reached for their money.

Goshiki had been uncertain about his sexuality for years, but now he thought that battle was over.

It was over, and Goshiki was definitely gay.

“Hey, mind if I sit?” 

Goshiki whipped his head to the side. A stranger pulled out the chair across the round table, flipped it around, and sat in it backward. He draped his arms along the back, eyeing Goshiki with a raised brow.

“Uh… hello?” said Goshiki, uncertain. 

“Hiya.” The man gave a sluggish wave of his fingers. The light was lower in the back of the club, but the vibrant red of his hair was unmistakable. “So what’s your deal?”

“My deal?” repeated Goshiki, confused. He looked around, as if clues to this conversation might be scattered nearby. His eyes snagged on the stage again and he forced himself to look away. “I don’t think I have a deal?”

The man studied him through hooded eyes. “This your first time at a strip club?”

“Y-yes?”

“That’s what I thought.” The man twisted around and flashed a thumbs-up. Goshiki realized the bartender, Ushijima, had been watching the pair of them. He returned to his duties, and the stranger turned back with a grin. “Wakatoshi thought you were sketchy. He can’t always tell the difference between the newbies and the creeps. You’re all jittery.”

Goshiki didn’t know what to say to that. He wondered if everyone else in the club thought he was a creep, too. He hadn’t noticed anyone looking at him but maybe they were whispering about him. Maybe he should leave before-

“What’s your name, kid?”

Goshiki refocused. “Goshiki Tsutomu.”

“Can I give you some advice, Goshiki Tsutomu?”

“Yes!” Goshiki realized his voice had gotten too loud. He lowered it and tried again. “Yes. Sure, thank you.”

The stranger’s grin widened. “First off, don’t tell anyone here your full name. It’s not their business. Just go by your given name, or pick a new one.”

Goshiki hadn’t thought about that. “Oh. Right.”

“My name’s Tendou,” said the stranger. “Tendou Satori. That’s my real name, but don’t tell anyone. I’ll keep yours secret if you keep mine, alright?”

Relief flowed over Goshiki like a cool breeze. “Right!”

Tendou plucked Goshiki’s untouched drink off the table and took a sip. Goshiki blinked, stunned, but didn’t protest. “You see all these guys out here?” said Tendou. He gestured at the crowd with the hand that still held Goshiki’s glass. “The customers?”

“Yes?”

“They’ll probably try to talk to you.” Tendou took another drink and pushed the glass across the table. Goshiki picked it up automatically. “You’re too cute to be here alone, Goshiki Tsutomu. Some lonely old man will try to pick you up and take you home. If someone comes over, don’t make eye contact. Just say you’re not interested and ignore them. They’ll go away, and if they don’t, one of us will make them go away, okay?”

Goshiki was torn between anxiety and relief. The ambiguity must have shown on his face.

“Unless that’s what you’re looking for,” said Tendou, tilting his head. “You trying to find a bed to warm tonight?”

“No!” It was nearly a shout. Goshiki looked around, but no one seemed to have noticed. He took a sip of his drink as an excuse to hide his face. 

“Good.” Tendou rose with a stretch, and Goshiki realized just how tall he was. He was dressed in a zip-up hoodie and baggy sweatpants, and Goshiki couldn’t figure out what Tendou’s purpose was. He didn’t have the build for a bouncer. “Oh, last piece of advice. Don’t let anyone touch your drink. You’ll get roofied.”

Goshiki fumbled his glass, barely getting it back onto the table without dropping it.

Tendou laughed. “Don’t worry, kid. I didn’t drug you. You can trust me.”

The way he said it, with a wide, teasing grin, made Goshiki wonder how true that was.

The current song ended, and Goshiki glanced up just in time to see Raven descend the steps in the middle of the stage. The DJ’s voice bled over the new beat as he announced the next performer. “Coming up next is one of our veteran dancers! Look to center stage for the one and only Chimera!”

Tendou stripped off his jacket and tossed it over the back of the chair. He grinned at Goshiki before weaving through the tables and mounting the stairs with one long-legged leap. He was in the air instantly, one leg wrapped around the pole, the other extended into a perfect line as he sailed into a quick spin.

About two minutes into the routine, Tendou yanked his pants off to reveal a red-sequined g-string. He looked directly at Goshiki as he did it, and Goshiki slapped a hand over his face to hide his embarrassment. 

The song changed, and another dancer stepped onto the stage. The DJ announced that he was Phoenix, but Goshiki only caught a blur of leather before Tendou demanded his attention. He wrapped one hand around the pole and leaned as far toward the edge of the stage as he could get, crooking a finger at Goshiki in obvious invitation. 

The men sitting by the stage turned to see who Tendou was looking at. Goshiki shrank beneath the attention, but Tendou was unrelenting. It was impossible to hear him over the music and the distance, but his lips shaped unmistakable syllables.

_Tsu-to-mu._

Goshiki stood, and he was surprised his knees didn’t buckle. He made his way across the floor, shakily, and hesitated behind the row of chairs edging the stage. Tendou twirled around the pole, pointed to one of the seats, and Goshiki obediently dropped into it. 

The lights were brighter here, tinted with subtle variations of color, playing across Tendou’s bare skin as he danced. His movements were mostly fluid, interspersed with an occasional spasmodic transition when he changed positions. Some of the men near Goshiki held out money, and Tendou melted off of the pole to approach them on his knees. He shifted his hips forward and hooked a thumb into the edge of his g-string. 

Anxiety slapped Goshiki through the face. Tendou was about to strip down completely. Goshiki was going to see _everything_ , and he was so close now. He couldn’t look away, and he couldn’t leave, and-

The nervous ramblings of his mind were soothed when the first man reached up to tuck money into the g-string. Tendou let the strap slap against his hip, yen kept snugly in place, and moved on to the next customer. 

Goshiki’s heartrate had just begun to return to normal when Tendou paused in front of him, still on his knees. Goshiki looked up at him, mouth slightly open.

Tendou gripped the edge of the stage and leaned close, grinning. “You have anything for me, Tsutomu?”

Goshiki slogged through the haze in his brain. He shoved a hand in his pocket, eyes still on Tendou, and pulled out a handful of yen. He’d stopped at the ATM just in case, but he’d never imagined he would have the courage to make use of the money.

Tendou tucked a thumb into his g-string again, but this time he tugged at the front rather than the side. He shuffled closer, knees at the very edge of the stage, and winked.

Goshiki slowly extended a hand. He knew this was acceptable, and Tendou was certainly okay with it, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was doing something wrong. His fingers shook with nerves as he got closer.

He must have been too slow. Tendou wrapped long fingers around Goshiki’s wrist and pulled his hand close. Goshiki tucked the money in the appropriate spot, and his knuckles brushed against Tendou’s skin. 

Goshiki jerked back and blurted an apology. He knew he wasn’t supposed to touch the dancers. No one even had to tell him. It was common sense. That had been an accident, but it didn’t matter. Tendou would call him out in front of everyone. He’d get kicked out, blacklisted, and they’d put a poster of his face up by the door so everyone walking by would know he’d broken the rules.

Through his panic, Goshiki realized Tendou was still grinning at him. Rather than announcing to the room that Goshiki was a creep, Tendou simply shuffled to the next customer and took his money, too.

Goshiki heaved a breath and sank back into his seat. He allowed himself a minute to recover, and by then the dancers were switching spots again. The man who took Tendou’s place was wearing a leather jockstrap, and Goshiki scrambled out of his chair to return to the safe haven of his corner table. 

His drink was waiting, and he threw the rest of it back in one large gulp. He collapsed into his chair and pressed a hand against the side of his burning face. 

He’d worried about coming here because of the social implications. He hadn’t known it would be bad for his health. Goshiki thought he would have a heart attack before the night was over.

“You’re cute when you’re embarrassed.” 

Goshiki looked up, realized Tendou’s barely covered groin was directly in his line of sight, and lowered his head again. He mumbled something, so low that he couldn’t even hear it himself.

Tendou laughed. It was sharp, but not unpleasant. “I’m just messing with you. We don’t get kids like you in here very often, you know. College kids come in sometimes, but usually in a group. An obnoxious group.”

Goshiki peeked up again, but Tendou was no longer in front of him. He’d moved to the other side of the table to step back into his sweatpants. Goshiki sighed, his tension easing. “Is it… weird for me to be here, then?”

“No way.” Tendou slipped his arms into the jacket he’d left strewn across the extra chair, but left it hanging open in the front. He didn’t seem to have a sense of shame. He’d probably redressed just to make Goshiki more comfortable. “Anyone is welcome here. Except for pervs, obviously, but you’re not the type.”

Goshiki glanced past him toward the bar, where Ushijima was making drinks for a pair of middle-aged men. “The bartender thought I was.”

Tendou flapped a hand and sank into the chair, one elbow propped on the table. “Don’t worry about him. He looks like he could snap your neck with two fingers – and sure, he probably could – but he would never. He’s a good guy.”

None of that made Goshiki feel any better.

“More importantly.” Tendou leaned across the table, leering. “Did you like my dance, Tsutomu?”

Goshiki had thought it was impossible to blush any harder, but his face proved him wrong. “I, uh- it was- you were-”

Tendou laughed again, slouching back and splaying his legs apart. “You’re adorable.”

There were still dancers on the stage, but others had wandered out among the audience, talking to the customers in the same way that Tendou was talking to Goshiki.

Well, not in the same way, if the scattered lap dances were any indication.

“Shouldn’t you, umm…” Goshiki trailed off, wondering if he should even ask. Maybe Tendou was only being friendly to him because it was his job. Maybe he secretly thought Goshiki was annoying and didn’t want to answer his questions.

Tendou raised a brow at him, and it seemed like permission.

“Shouldn’t you be doing… umm, that?” Goshiki gestured toward the dancers on the floor who were leaning close to speak to interested men and sitting on willing laps. “Instead of staying back here with me?”

“You saying you want a lapdance?”

“No! I was just-”

“Seriously, Tsutomu. Take a breath, okay?” Tendou’s grin was a little softer. Maybe he was worried about Goshiki’s impending heart attack, too. “I don’t like working the crowd. It’s not my thing. Some of the guys do great walking around like that, but I make my money on the stage. I’m a performer.”

“Oh.”

“If that’s a nice way of asking me to leave you alone, you can just say so.” Tendou’s grin didn’t falter. “I can take a hint.”

“That’s not what I meant!” said Goshiki. Tendou was embarrassing him, but Goshiki thought he may have been more uncomfortable without him. At least now he knew it was okay for him to be there, that he wasn’t out of place. “You can sit here.”

“So generous,” said Tendou. “Let me get you a drink, for your hospitality.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I know. I don’t _have_ to do anything, ever.” Tendou waved an arm over his head until he caught Ushijima’s attention. He gestured to Goshiki, shook his empty glass in the air, and Ushijima responded with a nod. “I’ll buy it with the money you tipped me onstage and still have some left over. You gave me way too much, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki didn’t know what to say to that. He’d been so nervous that he couldn’t even guess how much he’d given Tendou.

“The hell are you doing back here?”

Goshiki looked up at the unfamiliar voice. It belonged to the dancer who’d been on stage when he’d ran away, the one wearing leather. The DJ had called him Phoenix. Goshiki hadn’t gotten a good look at him before, in his haste to retreat, but it was impossible not to look at him now. 

The man was about the same height as Goshiki, maybe shorter. Where Tendou was long and slender, Phoenix was lean and athletic, well-shaped muscles defining his chest and shoulders. The ends of his hair were dyed black, there was dark liner around his eyes, and Goshiki had never seen so many piercings: in his ears, his eyebrow, his lip, his _nipples_ -

Goshiki snapped his stare away.

“Relaxing after a hard night’s work,” said Tendou, folding his arms behind his head. 

“It’s not even ten yet.”

“I’m resting up before my next dance, then.” Tendou nodded toward Goshiki. “Hanging out with my new little friend here. Say hi, Tsutomu.”

“Umm…. Hi?” said Goshiki, uncertain.

Phoenix eyed him, then looked back to Tendou. “Stop harassing the customers.”

“I would never,” said Tendou with a grin. “Tsutomu stuffed money in my underwear. We’re friends now. Right, Tsutomu?”

Goshiki wanted to crawl under the table and die.

Phoenix rolled his eyes and dragged over a chair. He dropped into it and started fishing money out of his leather jockstrap, a process that Goshiki forced himself not to watch. “If he annoys you, tell him to fuck off,” he said, dark eyes cutting to Goshiki as he spoke. “It’s what I always do.”

“Not true. You’ve never said that to me in your life.”

Phoenix gave him a flat look. “Fuck off.”

Tendou’s grin suggested he wasn’t offended. 

Goshiki wondered if he should go to a different table. If Tendou and his friend wanted this one, Goshiki didn’t mind moving. He didn’t want to be in the way.

“Oh! This is Semi-Semi,” said Tendou, as if just realizing he hadn’t introduced him. “He goes by Phoenix here because he pretends to be all mysterious, but he’s just Semi-Semi.”

Phoenix was unimpressed by that introduction. “It’s just Semi,” he corrected. “But while we’re in this building it’s Phoenix.” He narrowed his eyes at Goshiki. “And if you tell anyone different, I’ll bury you.”

Goshiki’s heart leapt into his throat.

“Stop it, Semi-Semi. You’re scaring him.” Tendou curled an arm around Semi’s shoulders. “Don’t let the bad boy look fool you, Tsutomu. He’s all soft deep down.”

Goshiki didn’t believe that for a second.

A shadow fell over their table. Ushijima stared down at the three of them, expressionless. He placed a fresh gin and tonic on the table and collected Goshiki’s empty glass. 

“Oh! I’ve got this one.” Tendou shoved a hand down the front of his pants, emerging with a handful of yen. He offered it to Ushijima, who accepted the money as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Thanks, Waka!”

Ushijima returned to the bar without a word. 

“You’re buying him drinks?” asked Semi, his lip curling. “I didn’t think twinks like this were your type.”

It was fortunate Goshiki hadn’t taken a drink yet. He would’ve choked on it.

“I’m just being nice,” said Tendou. 

Semi seemed skeptical.

“I’m nice sometimes.” Tendou shrugged, and his grin went sharper. “You jealous, Semi-Semi?”

Semi rolled his eyes and addressed Goshiki. “Are you even old enough to be here?”

It took Goshiki a second too long to remember his age. “I’m twenty-one!” he announced. “My birthday was in August!”

Semi squinted. “Did we look that young at twenty-one?”

“Maybe,” said Tendou. “Hard to say, now that we’re old and wrinkled.”

“We don’t have wrinkles.” Semi stood, folded the wad of yen he’d collected from his jockstrap, and pushed it into Tendou’s hand. “Hang onto that for me. The old golfer guy is here. I’m going to flirt him into the back room for a private dance.”

“God speed,” said Tendou, solemn. 

Semi left the table and slipped around the side of the stage. An older man sat at a table alone, drinking a beer and watching the dancers. Semi put his hands on the back of the man’s chair and leaned close, murmuring something into his ear. Ten seconds later, Semi was straddling his lap, laughing at some joke the man made. It was probably fake, because Semi hadn’t given off a friendly attitude, but it seemed convincing to Goshiki. 

“He’s good,” said Tendou, as Semi led the man toward the back of the club less than two minutes later. “He looks like _that_ , which is a good start, but he can turn on the charm when he needs to. He makes the most out of anyone here.”

Goshiki stared after them, even when they’d disappeared through an unmarked door. He didn’t know what happened in the back room. He wondered if he even wanted to know.

“Is he your type, Tsutomu?” asked Tendou. He took a sip of Goshiki’s drink. “Or do you go for something else?”

Goshiki didn’t know if he should answer that. He’d never talked to anyone about his type before, because he’d never admitted to anyone that he liked boys. He’d kept it a secret for so long that it felt wrong to mention it.

But he was at a gay bar, watching male dancers and inserting money into questionable places. Being secretive about his sexuality wasn’t an option here. It was obvious to everyone in that club, and no one seemed to mind.

“I… don’t know,” said Goshiki. When Tendou put the drink back on the table Goshiki reached for it, the ice cold against his upper lip as he took a sip. “I’ve never really thought about it.” That was true enough. He’d never let himself think too hard about any of this.

Tendou considered that. “Which dancer do you like best, then? Who appeals to your young, gay sensibilities?”

Goshiki flushed, but Tendou hadn’t said that in a mean way. Even when he’d embarrassed Goshiki onstage, it hadn’t bee in a mean way. It really did seem as if he was trying to be friendly, and was just too unique to do it in the same way as other people. 

Goshiki looked out across the club, scanning the dancers who’d mingled among the crowd. There were all types among them. Some were tall like Tendou, others were shorter, and some were average height. Their costumes varied, from a bad replica of a police uniform to a few scraps of lace to some sort of expertly tied ropes that made Goshiki blush. There was bountiful diversity, a flavor to satisfy all palettes. Still, Goshiki couldn’t choose which one appealed to him the most. They were all nice in their own way.

At least, until the DJ announced the next dancer moving to the center stage, and Goshiki snapped to attention. 

He’d been so distracted by Tendou and the atmosphere in general that he’d nearly forgotten the first dancer he’d watched from his seat by the bar. Hearing the name again was an instant reminder. “I like him,” said Goshiki, so quietly that he may have been talking to himself instead of Tendou. The dancer gripped the pole and pulled himself off the floor as if he was weightless. He hooked his knees around the pole and leaned back, arms overhead, suspended in the air. He peeled his shirt off and tossed it toward the stage stairs, then grabbed onto the pole again and flipped himself upside down. He wore a tight-fitting pair of shorts, but the hint of wine red lace peeked from the top of them. Goshiki didn’t think he’d be wearing them for long. 

“And here I was,” said Tendou, “thinking you’d have good taste.”

Goshiki blinked at him, but his gaze slipped back toward the stage. He was too distracted to take offense.

“I guess he’s not bad,” said Tendou, as Raven fell into an upside-down split. “Not until he opens his mouth, anyway. He doesn’t have Semi-Semi’s charm.”

Raven flipped upright and went to his knees, slowly teasing down the edge of his shorts, revealing more lace beneath. 

Goshiki disagreed. He personally thought Raven was extremely charming.

Tendou hummed to himself, tilting his head as Raven stripped. “I can see the appeal, though. You could do worse. He’s great at lap dances. You should ask him for one.”

Goshiki went pale. He didn’t know if that was better or worse than blushing. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?” Tendou’s grin became teasing again. “That’s what we’re here for, you know. We like doing lap dances. It means more money.”

“I can’t,” repeated Goshiki, staring resolutely at the stage and, by extension, Raven. He was bare except for the lace now. Goshiki hadn’t realized at first, but Raven was barefoot. Tendou was in high top sneakers and Semi had worn leather boots. Goshiki assumed footwear must have been the dancers’ choice. “I’m not… I haven’t… I can’t.”

Watching the dancers was awkward enough. Goshiki couldn’t imagine having one that close, sitting in his lap the way some of the dancers were doing among the crowd. He would combust.

“Sure you can,” said Tendou. “It’s easy, for you. You just sit there and enjoy the view.”

“Tendou-san, that’s not-”

“Did you just call me Tendou-san?”

Goshiki went quiet. Maybe he shouldn’t have said Tendou’s real name out loud. He’d told Goshiki to keep it a secret. He should have used the stage name instead. Goshiki was forgetting where they were and who Tendou was; he couldn’t just address him by his name as if they were friends. Tendou was going to walk away and leave him and then-

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” said Tendou, all traces of teasing gone. “You’re too good for this world.”

Goshiki wasn’t sure how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

“Do you have 2500 yen to spare?” asked Tendou.

“Oh. Umm… yes?” said Goshiki, surprised by the question.

“Good. That’s what you’ll have to pay Shirabu for a lap dance. I’ll have him come over when he’s offstage.” Tendou was on his feet and halfway to the stage before Goshiki could speak.

He didn’t know who Tendou meant, at first. He should have made the connection from context alone, but his nerves had been so shot since the moment he’d walked through the door that his rational thinking had taken a hit. 

It became clear quickly, as Tendou approached the stage, that Raven and Shirabu were the same person.

From what Goshiki had gathered, the customers weren’t allowed to reach over the edge of the stage unless they were offering money. Tendou had no such reservations. He leaned over and propped his elbows on the solid wood, grinning up at Shirabu, who spiraled down the pole and onto his knees. Tendou held out a couple of bills and Shirabu took them from his hand, leaning close as Tendou mumbled something to him. 

Shirabu’s eyes cut toward the back of the room, and Goshiki’s heart stuttered to a stop.

Shirabu nodded, Tendou backed away, and Shirabu tucked the money into dark lace as he resumed his dance. Tendou shrugged his jacket off and waited by the stairs to the stage as the song tapered out. The DJ announced Chimera’s return to center stage, and Tendou hopped into place. The other dancers shifted, and Shirabu descended the steps, sliding another glance toward Goshiki.

Goshiki considered making a run for the door. Nothing was stopping him from leaving. It might be the best idea, to stave off the impending cardiac arrest.

Then he remembered that the bartender still had his credit card and he was stuck there at least until he closed out his tab.

Maybe he should go do that now. No one would bother him at the bar. He certainly wouldn’t get a lap dance at the bar; the seats were too high. Goshiki should have stayed over there all night instead of getting a table, despite the intimidating bartender. Tendou wouldn’t have approached him, Goshiki wouldn’t be sweating, and the most attractive man he’d ever seen wouldn’t be walking right toward him.

Shirabu stopped at the edge of the table. He’d recovered his shirt and shorts from the stage, but they hung limply in his hand. He hadn’t bothered redressing. 

“Would you like a dance?” asked Shirabu, his face neutral.

Goshiki tried to answer. He opened his mouth, but all that came out was a weak breath. 

Shirabu was unimpressed. He looked over his shoulder toward the stage, where Tendou had tilted into an inverted spin on the pole. “Chimera said you wanted a dance from me. Was he wrong?”

“Yes!”

Shirabu’s brows rose.

“I mean no!” said Goshiki. “I mean… Yes, I would, but… I don’t know how this works.”

Shirabu sighed. He put his clothes on the edge of the table, plucked a few bills out of his lingerie, and said, “Give me 2500 yen.”

Goshiki fumbled for the money, digging into his front pocket where he’d stuffed the cash he’d gotten from the ATM. He counted through a stack, but the numbers kept jumbling in his head. He was too nervous to get it right.

Shirabu snatched the money out of his hands and counted it himself. He folded up the extra and nudged it back into Goshiki’s pocket.

Goshiki felt like he was about to ignite.

“No touching,” said Shirabu.

“Right! I won’t!” Goshiki crammed his hands beneath the outsides of his thighs, trapping them there. Shirabu didn’t roll his eyes, but it was a close call.

Shirabu didn’t immediately move, and Goshiki didn’t understand why until the current song faded into a new one. The DJ announced a new dancer on stage – Falcon – but Goshiki barely heard. Shirabu threw a leg over Goshiki’s lap to straddle him, gripping the back of the chair on either side of Goshiki’s head. The beat kicked and Shirabu rolled, from his shoulders down to his hips, and Goshiki’s mouth went dry.

It was beautiful torture. Goshiki had never been so uncomfortable, but he’d never been so enthralled, either. He was spellbound, watching the way Shirabu’s body moved, the liquid dips and rolls of his hips. That close, Goshiki could almost see through the lace. There was nothing modest about it, but Shirabu was obviously unashamed. 

He stepped away, and Goshiki was disappointed, but only for a fleeting second. Shirabu dropped, nearly to the ground, and rose again slowly, arching his back to give Goshiki a dangerously good view. He straddled Goshiki again, this time in reverse. 

Goshiki had always been too polite to stare at anyone’s ass, but the way Shirabu moved his, directly over Goshiki’s lap, made it impossible to look away.

He didn’t notice when the song ended. He wouldn’t have noticed if the club had caught fire. He only knew it was over when Shirabu straightened, combing fingers through his bangs to make sure they were still in order. “If you want another one later, let me know.” He took his clothes and money off the table and turned to walk away.

“Thank you,” said Goshiki. Normally it would have been too loud, but he was so breathless that it was reduced to a normal tone. 

Shirabu spared a glance over his shoulder, briefly, before drifting across the club.

Goshiki slumped back in his chair. He felt like he’d just ran ten kilometers. His breath was short, his heart skittered away from him, and his face was so warm that he must have been sweating.

He was also painfully hard, and he hoped Shirabu hadn’t noticed.

“You must have liked it.” Tendou slinked over and resumed his seat at Goshiki’s table. He was nearly nude again, his g-string bulging with yen. “You look like you’ve seen the gods.”

“He’s a really good dancer,” said Goshiki. He looked toward the stage, but his eyes wouldn’t focus enough for him to make out the dancers there. 

Tendou stretched over the table to pat Goshiki’s head. “He is. Hang onto that fantasy while you can. If you figure out he’s a huge asshole, it’ll ruin it.”

Goshiki heard the words, but they didn’t fit together. Shirabu was perfect. Goshiki was gullible at times, but not gullible enough to think that someone like Shirabu had a single flaw.

“You know we have private rooms, right?” said Tendou, nodding toward the back of the club. “Just you and the dancer of your choice. It gets a little more personal in there.”

Goshiki’s eyes went wide. “What does that mean?”

“Not what you’re thinking, probably. Especially not with Shirabu. He think’s he’s too good to fuck someone in the private rooms.”

Goshiki’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t been thinking _that_.

“I’m not saying anyone does that,” said Tendou. “They don’t. It’s against the rules. Against the law, technically. Wakatoshi frowns upon illegal behavior.” He paused, brow creasing in thought. “I’ve maybe gotten into some _situations_ back there, but not with customers.”

Goshiki just stared at him. He didn’t know what Tendou was talking about, or where he was taking this conversation.

“Anyway.” Tendou lounged back. “What I mean is that you get a little more attention. You’re all alone in there. This isn’t a full nude club, but sometimes that rule gets bent a little in the private rooms. For the right price.”

Goshiki couldn’t even let himself picture that. His brain would short-circuit.

“Or not,” said Tendou, trying to interpret the look on Goshiki’s face. “It can be the same as a normal lap dance, only private. Makes it more comfortable. He’d be happy to take you back there, but it’s more expensive.”

“I don’t think I can do that,” said Goshiki.

“Why not?”

Goshiki frowned down at the floor. “I might have a panic attack.”

Tendou laughed, loudly enough that several of the other customers tossed curious looks in their direction. Tendou didn’t seem to care, so Goshiki tried not to, either. 

The rest of the night went smoothly. Goshiki stayed in his corner and enjoyed the dancing, especially when it was Shirabu’s turn. Tendou split his time between Goshiki’s table and the stage, and Goshiki found himself less anxious in his presence. Semi drifted over occasionally, between his excursions to the private rooms. Goshiki didn’t know how much money he was making in there, but judging by the wads of cash he kept passing to Tendou for safekeeping, it was a lot.

Goshiki stayed past midnight. He would’ve stayed longer, but Tendou started talking about the private rooms again and Goshiki worried that he would get tricked into going into one. He closed out his tab with Ushijima, who no longer seemed suspicious of him. Before Goshiki made it to the door, Tendou wrapped a long arm around his shoulders and pulled him into a half-embrace.

“Thanks for keeping me entertained tonight, Tsutomu,” he said with a grin. “It’s been a pleasure.”

“Right! Umm… thank you, too.”

“You coming back to see us sometime?”

“I… don’t know.”

“You should,” said Tendou. He wandered toward the door, arm still hooked around Goshiki’s shoulders. “It’ll be a great time. I’ll buy you another drink, and maybe Shirabu will give you another dance. You had fun tonight, right?”

Goshiki wasn’t sure about anything else, but he was certain about that. “Yes! It was fun.”

“Good.” Tendou ruffled his hair and stepped back. “That’s what we’re here for. I’ll see you next time, okay?”

Goshiki didn’t intend to agree, but the words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. “Yes! Next time!”

Tendou grinned, and Goshiki did the same as he pushed through the door. The cool air outside was refreshing. Goshiki breathed it in, pleased that he’d survived such a stressful experience.

It had been worth the stress. That was the most fun he’d had in a long time. 

He fished his face mask out of his pocket, hooked it around his ears, and started walking. It was late, but he didn’t have a single trace of weariness. He was wide awake, a spring in his step as he headed home. 

The whole way there he thought of Shirabu, and it didn’t even stop when he fell asleep.

He saw the club in his dreams, and Shirabu was on center stage.


	2. Chapter 2

Goshiki didn’t tell anyone about his experience at the club. It hadn’t changed anything. He went about his routine as usual; class, practice, sleep, and class again. He’d been more excitable than usual during the first couple of days, but when his friends had asked why, Goshiki had given them a weak excuse about drinking too much caffeine. They’d believed it easily, because it often happened.

He said nothing to his friends, or anyone else, about the epiphanic affirmation of his sexuality. 

It was hard, not rambling on about it. Goshiki liked to share his experiences, more often and in more detail than most people preferred. He knew he was annoying at times; he didn’t even need the occasional rude classmate to point it out. It went against his very nature to keep secrets, but this was one that he held close. Maybe his friends wouldn’t care, but maybe they would. Either way, he wouldn’t have told everything about the club, even if he’d allowed himself to talk about it. He wanted to keep some of the memories only for himself.

After the first few days, the worst of his enthusiasm faded. He no longer got worked up every time the club crossed his mind. That was for the best, because he spent a lot of time thinking about it. 

“Goshiki!”

Goshiki shook himself out of his thoughts, just in time to fling up an arm as a ball slammed in his direction. He stumbled back, remembering much too late that he was in the middle of practice. The impact stung, and although he knocked the ball away, his own arm slapped him in the face. 

“Are you okay?” One of the new freshman students loped over, wide-eyed. “I didn’t mean to hit it toward you! Sorry!”

“It’s okay!” Goshiki’s cheek stung, but he ignored it. “I should’ve been paying attention. I was, uh… thinking. Nice serve, though!”

The freshman blinked. “I hit it way over the line.”

Goshiki realized he was standing at least ten yards from the back of the court. “Oh. Well it’s easier to work on control than power. You’ll get there.” He scooped up the ball and passed it to the freshman, who accepted it with a nod. He jogged back across the court, and Goshiki pressed a hand against his burning cheek.

That was the third time something like this had happened in the past week.

“Yo, Goshiki!” 

He turned too quickly, prepared to field another stray ball, but he wasn’t in danger. Kindaichi, his teammate since their first year of university, waved him over. Goshiki went, grabbing a water bottle on the way.

Kindaichi was on the floor by the bleachers, and Goshiki dropped down beside him.

“You okay?” asked Kindaichi.

“Of course! It didn’t hit me.”

“No, I don’t mean… I’m asking if you’re okay, like… in general.” Kindaichi gave him a side glance before again watching the other players spread across the gym. “You’ve been off the past couple weeks.”

Guilt made Goshiki shrink. “Right. It won’t happen again.”

Kindaichi didn’t immediately respond. It seemed he was struggling with what to say. “Is something… going on? Something you want to talk about?”

It was a massive change from their first year on the university team. Kindaichi hadn’t liked Goshiki very much back then. He’d never directly said it, but Goshiki had still known. He always knew when someone found him annoying. 

That didn’t mean he could always stop being annoying, though.

“No.” Despite the tentative friendship they’d built over the last few years, Goshiki wasn’t about to share this with Kindaichi, or anyone else. “I’ve been thinking about something too much. That’s all.” Something with sharp eyes, smooth skin, and wine red lace.

“Get it worked out,” said Kindaichi. He slapped Goshiki on the shoulder, too hard but still companionably. “The team needs their ace in top form.”

Goshiki perked up, as Kindaichi returned to practice. “Yes! I will!” He took a long draw of water, tossed the bottle aside, and raced back to the court.

Kindaichi was right. Goshiki needed to get over the distraction. It wasn’t good for the team, and it wasn’t good for Goshiki.

Separating himself from the problem didn’t seem to be working. It only made him reflect more and more on the brightly lit memories of the club. 

Maybe Goshiki should address the problem in a different way.

  
  
  
  
  
It wasn’t the smartest idea, most likely. It might even make things worse.

But Goshiki’s head was already so full of the club that he didn’t think more exposure would make a difference.

After practice he showered, went back to his dorm to change, and made the long walk into the middle of town. It was half-past nine when he got there. This time he was eager instead of anxious, and he didn’t hesitate as he pushed through the front door.

He paid the cover charge to the same bored woman as last time. She checked his ID, handed it back, and Goshiki shoved it clumsily back into his wallet as he shouldered his way into the main room of the club.

The atmosphere pressed around him with a satisfying swell of recognition. The tinted lights were the same, the undercurrent of music was the same, and the DJ’s voice bleeding through the speakers, announcing the next dancer on center stage, was also the same.

Goshiki couldn’t remember why he’d been nervous the first time. Now, as he moved further in, eyes stuck to the stage, he was ecstatic. He scanned the current dancers, seeking familiarity, but he didn’t recognize them. It was possible he’d seen them last time and had just forgotten. The memories of his last experience were very specific.

He surveyed the crowd. It was smaller than it had been on his first visit, but he wasn’t concerned about the other customers. He picked out the dancers who mingled among them, but none of them were familiar, either.

Disappointment crept in, and Goshiki struggled to push it away. Maybe Shirabu had taken a break. Just because Goshiki couldn’t find him during his first five seconds in the club didn’t mean he wasn’t there. He would wait it out for a little while and hope for the best.

He turned toward the bar, but stopped in his tracks when he caught sight of the bartender. It wasn’t Ushijima, the intimidating one, but it wasn’t a stranger, either.

Semi passed a drink across the counter, and as he turned, his eyes caught on Goshiki. He raised a brow, then leaned across the bar to mutter something to another customer. That customer spun in his chair so quickly that it nearly made Goshiki dizzy.

“Tsutomu!” The man launched out of his chair and was across the floor before Goshiki could blink. An arm was around his neck and a too-wide grin was in his face. “You came back! Did you miss me? You missed me, right?”

Goshiki reeled back, startled. He didn’t know how this stranger knew his name, or why he was touching him, or… 

Or maybe this wasn’t a stranger, either.

Bright red hair was flattened beneath a snug navy beanie. His clothes were casual, no inappropriate glimpses of the pale body beneath. 

The pale body that Goshiki had seen very much of two weeks before.

“Tendou-san?”

Tendou beamed and dragged Goshiki toward the bar. “Come sit with me! Semi-Semi will make you a drink. It won’t be the best one you’ve ever had, but if you drink enough you don’t even taste it anymore, right?”

The glare Semi gave him could have scorched a river dry.

Tendou hopped into a tall chair, unbothered, and Goshiki sat in the one next to him. 

“What do you want kid?” asked Semi. The heat of his glare lessened as he looked to Goshiki.

“Oh! I, umm… I have to get up early so I shouldn’t-”

“C’mon, just one drink,” said Tendou, nudging him. There was a glass on the bar in front of him, something that looked like water but Goshiki guessed it wasn’t. “It won’t hurt ya.”

Goshiki should have said no. Tomorrow was Friday, which meant his first class was a painfully early eight-thirty. Even coming to the bar that night had been stupid. He should have waited, but he needed to get a handle on his scattered thoughts before they got worse. Maybe this was the best way to do that, maybe it wasn’t. It was the only thing he could come up with, so he hoped it worked.

“Okay,” said Goshiki, giving into Tendou’s wide-eyed encouragement. “Just one.”

Tendou grinned. “Gin and tonic?”

Goshiki nodded, and Semi went to make the drink. Goshiki swiveled in his chair, looking at the stage again. He hadn’t heard the DJ say anything about Raven, but maybe he’d missed the announcement.

The dancers had shifted, but they were still strangers.

He wanted to ask Tendou about Shirabu, but didn’t want him to think he’d been sitting around pining after him for the past two weeks. Instead he asked, “Aren’t you and Semi-san dancing tonight?”

“Nope! We only dance on the weekends, when it’s a bigger crowd. These guys are the regulars.” He gestured toward the stage. “This is their actual job.”

“This… isn’t your job?”

Tendou grinned. “You think I could make it as a full-time stripper? I’m flattered, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki flushed, but wasn’t sure why he was embarrassed. It was a reasonable assumption, considering that was what Tendou had been doing when they’d met. 

“Nah, I have a day job,” said Tendou, as Semi returned with Goshiki’s drink. “I just do this for fun, and for a little extra cash. Semi-Semi is the bartender here during the week. I’m still not sure why. As much money as he rakes in from the private rooms every weekend, he doesn’t need to waste his time with this.”

“I want something stable,” said Semi. The scowl he’d gained from Tendou’s earlier comment hadn’t quite faded. “I won’t be young forever. No one will pay me to take my clothes off when I’m fifty.”

“I disagree.” Tendou propped his chin in his hand and grinned. “Plenty of people will still be lusting after you, and I’ll be at the top of the list.”

Goshiki’s face went warmer, but Semi was unaffected. He rolled his eyes and walked away to check on the other customers.

“Take a good look, Tsutomu,” said Tendou. “That’s what a perfect man looks like.”

Goshiki didn’t know what to say to that. He stuttered over an awkward, “O-okay?”

Tendou grinned. “What took you so long to come back? I thought we’d scared you away.”

“I, umm… I had… stuff. To do.” The excuse was weak, but it was the best Goshiki could come up with. He didn’t have a good reason. Of course he’d considered returning the previous weekend, but he’d thought that might seem too desperate. 

Tendou tilted his head. “What do you do, anyway?”

“Volleyball!” said Goshiki immediately.

Tendou laughed. “Is that your job?”

“Oh! No, I don’t have a job. I’m in university. I graduate next year!”

“Did you hear that, Semi-Semi?” asked Tendou, as Semi returned to their end of the bar. “Tsutomu graduates university next year!”

Semi’s only response was a blank stare.

“So you play volleyball for the university team?” asked Tendou. “What position?”

The question was all the conversational prompting Goshiki needed. He launched into a detailed explanation of his history on the team, including when he’d become the ace and what each of his teammates had said about it. He knew he was rambling; he did it often enough that he was highly aware when it happened. Sometimes he tried to cut himself off before he dragged on too long, but Tendou didn’t seem annoyed. He sipped at his mystery drink, listening to Goshiki with unwavering attention. 

Goshiki paused for breath, prepared to slip into a retelling of one of his best high school matches, when the DJ’s voice distracted him.

_“Alright, coming up on center stage for the first time tonight! One of your new favorites. Please welcome Plumage’s very own Raven!”_

Goshiki whipped toward the stage so fast that his neck popped. Shirabu ascended the stairs, curled his fingers around the center pole, and looked out at his audience. Goshiki expected to see him in the same clothing he’d worn over his lace two weeks ago, but it was a very different outfit. Goshiki’s mouth went dry.

“The fuck is Kenjirou wearing?” asked Semi, leaning across the bar to squint at him.

“Looks like he took some tips from your wardrobe, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou with a grin.

It wasn’t like Semi’s leather, not quite. Shirabu wore black shorts that were so small and tight that they were rendered unnecessary. Only the tops of his thighs were bare; the rest of his legs were sheathed in high fishnet stockings. When he stripped his tight shirt off, slowly, revealing an inch of skin at a time, Goshiki realized he wasn’t completely bare beneath. He wore a shirt that was sleeves only, leaving his chest and torso on display.

Shirabu latched onto the pole and pulled himself off the floor with seemingly little effort. He twisted, the lights reflecting against smooth skin, and inverted himself upside-down with a perfect curve of his back. He extended an arm and beckoned to the audience, inviting them closer. By the time he’d flipped upright and kicked himself into a spin, the seats in front of his section of stage were full.

“You know what I told him to wear? White fucking lace.” Semi rolled his eyes. “He has a face like a fucking angel. If he’d work with that, he’d do great.”

“I don’t know, Semi-Semi. Looks like he’s doing pretty well as it is.”

There was a scatter of cash at Shirabu’s feet before he even peeled off the shorts, so slowly that it was torturous. Goshiki was on the edge of his seat, and if he moved any further forward, he would hit the floor. He hadn’t looked away since the song had started. He wasn’t sure if he’d even blinked.

When Tendou slapped him on the shoulder, Goshiki jumped so hard he nearly bit his own tongue.

“Get out there, Tsutomu.” Tendou pointed toward the crowd at the stage. “Go put some money in that boy’s underwear. Live your best life.”

Goshiki sputtered over a response. The syllables tripped together, twisting his words. He took a breath and finally managed, “There’s no room for me. I’ll just-”

“When the song changes,” said Tendou, talking over him, “he’ll cycle to the far end of the stage, over there where Taichi is. There are some seats there. Go grab one.”

“I- I don’t know if I-”

“Tsutomu.” Tendou squished Goshiki’s cheeks between his hands. “Stop denying your precious gay heart. This club exists so you can look at pretty boys without being judged. Now go look at that pretty boy. Make some memories for your spank bank.”

Semi reached across the bar and slapped Tendou’s hands away. “Leave the kid alone. You’re making him uncomfortable.”

“I’m doing no such thing. Right, Tsutomu? Are you uncomfortable?”

Goshiki didn’t answer. He’d turned back to face the stage, lingering on the handful of vacant seats lining the far end.

This was the reason he’d come back. If he embraced this experience instead of floundering in uncertainty, maybe he would stop daydreaming about it at the most inconvenient times. If Goshiki became more comfortable here, maybe his subconscious brain would stop trying to puzzle it out at all hours of the day. 

It wasn’t the best logic, but it was all he had.

“Okay,” he said, more to himself than Tendou. “I’m going.”

Tendou made a low comment as Goshiki stood, one that he didn’t hear. Judging from Semi’s snappy reprimand, it had been something suggestive. 

Goshiki made his way across the floor, advancing toward the stage. He was pleased that it wasn’t as busy as it had been the last time he’d come. He felt less awkward as he wove through the tables, only half of them occupied. When he reached the seats that lined the stage, however, that awkwardness returned in force.

The song had ended. The current dancer at that end – Taichi, Tendou had called him – paused to gather up the sprinkle of money he’d earned. 

Goshiki stared at the seats, a few of them empty, and then glanced back toward the bar. Tendou was watching. He flapped a hand in encouragement, and Goshiki braced himself as he stepped around one of the chairs and sat. It was plush, comfortable. They were likely designed that way to encourage customers to sit stage-side for long periods of time. 

Taichi gathered the last of his money and paced toward the far end of the stage. He bypassed Shirabu, who’d collected his earnings and was heading straight for Goshiki.

Goshiki’s pulse was a low, quick thunder in his ears as the music changed. The DJ made an announcement as another dancer climbed the stairs, but Goshiki didn’t hear it. He wasn’t aware of anything in that club other than the lean lines of Shirabu’s body as he wrapped himself around the pole.

Shirabu hadn’t bothered squeezing back into his tight clothes. He wore only his fishnets and his sleeves and, similarly to the last time Goshiki had seen him, the lace that had been beneath his shorts. Instead of wine red, it was all black.

He kicked against the floor and into a spin, one leg hooked around the pole, the other extended, toes pointed neatly. He pulled himself up higher and let go completely, melting backward, fingertips brushing against the floor. He planted his palms and balanced his weight as he kicked his legs into a full split, giving Goshiki a view that lodged his fluttering heart in his throat.

Maybe coming back hadn’t been the best idea after all. Goshiki would never be able to think of anything other than this for the rest of his life.

Shirabu collapsed into an artful pile of limbs and then rose to his knees, unfurling one arm overhead. He used it to grab onto the pole and spin himself, knees barely off of the floor, the muscles in his arms bunched tight. It must have been strenuous, but no sign of it showed on Shirabu’s face. His expression was neutral, just as it had been the last time Goshiki had seen him.

That didn’t matter. He didn’t need to be expressive. Even blank-faced, he was the most attractive man Goshiki had ever seen.

The men on either side of Goshiki tossed money at Shirabu’s feet. Goshiki was too transfixed to dig into his pocket for his own cash.

As the song wound down, Shirabu stepped to the end of the stage, hips swaying as he moved, and smoothly dropped to his knees. He took a folded bill from a customer’s hand and tucked it into the edge of his fishnet stocking, then stretched the elastic to allow the next man to tuck some yen against his thigh. He made his way down the row, and Goshiki realized only when he was in front of the neighboring seat that it was almost his turn. 

He fumbled in his pocket, yanking out the handful of yen he’d gotten from the ATM on his way there. He’d felt guilty at the time, because whenever he withdrew money, it was from his parents’ account. Now he didn’t have the mental capacity to feel guilt. His head was full of Shirabu, and there was room for nothing else.

Shirabu took the man’s money, then shuffled in front of Goshiki. Shirabu considered him with a slight tilt of his head, and hope swooped in Goshiki’s stomach. Maybe Shirabu remembered him.

Shirabu went up higher on his knees and tucked a thumb into the edge of the lace hugging his hip. He tugged it out, making just enough space for a few folded bills. 

Goshiki couldn’t immediately move. He felt like he’d atrophied, like there wasn’t enough strength in his limbs to extend his arm. 

Shirabu raised an eyebrow, and it gave Goshiki the motivation to reach out. The money shook in his hand as it reached closer to Shirabu. He’d done this with Tendou two weeks ago, but that had been different. He’d been embarrassed, but that was all. This time he was so overwhelmed that if someone had asked his name, he wasn’t certain if he would have remembered.

Apparently he was too slow.

The money was plucked from his hand. Shirabu tucked it away himself, pale fingers against black lace, before moving on to the man on Goshiki’s other side.

Goshiki stared after him, dazed. He vaguely remembered what Semi had said a few minutes ago, about Shirabu having the face of an angel. He hadn’t been wrong. Shirabu was perfect.

When Shirabu had collected his money and left that end of the stage, heading for the opposite side, Goshiki watched him from the small distance until he realized another dancer was taking up the vacated pole in front of him. He was much different than Shirabu, sturdier and more muscular, dark hair shorn into an undercut. He was attractive, in his own way, but Goshiki didn’t have the interest to spare. He left his seat and stumbled back to the bar, glancing over his shoulder every few seconds at Shirabu, who’d started a new dance in front of a new group of men.

Semi was tending to a group of customers at the far end of the counter, but Tendou was right where Goshiki had left him.

“Did you not hear me,” said Tendou, as Goshiki resumed his seat, “when I told you to live your best life?”

Goshiki folded his arms on the bar and rested his forehead against them. He mumbled something, so muffled that even he couldn’t hear it.

His shoulder was patted gently. “It was a good try. You looked like you were enjoying yourself, at least, from the way your mouth was hanging open.”

Goshiki whipped his head up, aghast, and Tendou laughed.

“I’m joking, Tsutomu! You looked very respectable. A perfect gentleman.”

Goshiki didn’t know what to say to that. He was beginning to understand that he couldn’t take everything Tendou said seriously.

“He’ll be dancing all night,” said Tendou. He swiveled in his seat and leaned back against the bar to watch the stage. “You’ll get another chance.”

Goshiki reached for his drink, realized it had been emptied in his absence, and mimicked Tendou to watch the dancers. Shirabu was still going, sliding around the pole with smooth rolls of his hips, dragging a hand across his fishnet stockings from his knee up to his thigh. He went down to his knees, leaned back to grab the pole, and-

“Want another drink kid?”

Goshiki jumped as if he’d been caught doing something wrong. He swiveled around to find Semi scooping up the empty glass with a flat glance at Tendou.

Goshiki had said he would only drink one, but technically he hadn’t even finished the first one. “Yes! One more. Thank you, Semi-san.”

Semi drifted off to get it. Tendou leaned over and said, “You know private rooms are discounted on weekdays, right? Two songs for the price of one, Monday through Thursday. Just in case you were wondering.”

Goshiki’s face went warm. He thought of sitting in a dark room, with Shirabu dancing in front of him, looking at him, moving closer, maybe reaching out to touch him…

“Tsutomu is thinking something naughty!” said Tendou, singsong. He flicked at a piece of Goshiki’s hair. “Your eyes went all glazed there. What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing!” Goshiki tried to wipe the fleeting scene out of his head, so Tendou couldn’t read it on his face. “I wasn’t thinking of anything.”

“Sure you weren’t.” His grin suggested he wasn’t convinced. “All of your thoughts are pure and innocent. No sexy strippers anywhere to be found.”

Goshiki spluttered over a response, but was saved the trouble when Semi returned with his drink.

“Here,” he said, sliding it onto the bar. “No charge, since Tendou drank the last one. I’ll add it to his tab.”

“Semi-Semi! How could you? I would never do something like that.”

Semi pretended not to hear. He swept away again, grabbing a towel to wipe some spilled liquor off of the bar.

Goshiki grabbed the drink and took a gulp, hoping the interruption would distract Tendou from their conversation. He looked over his shoulder toward the stage, but the dancers had shifted again. Shirabu had cycled away, replaced by the muscular man who Goshiki had seen for only a brief moment. Shirabu was nowhere in sight, not even among the crowd.

Goshiki turned back toward the bar, wondering when Shirabu would get another turn on the stage. He hoped it wouldn’t be very long. The other dancers were attractive, and they were good at their job, but they weren’t Shirabu.

“You don’t like Hayato?” asked Tendou with a grin, as if reading Goshiki’s thoughts. “He’s a great dancer. Sometimes the DJ will lay down some rap and let Hayato breakdance. It’s impressive. He has some serious core strength.”

“No, he’s great!” said Goshiki. He glanced over his shoulder again, briefly. “They’re all great.”

“But…?”

Goshiki blinked at him. “But?”

“But they’re not as great as Shirabu, right?”

Goshiki stared down at his drink, as if the glass was extremely interesting. He pretended his face wasn’t burning.

Tendou cackled. “You’re too easy to read. You need to invest in a poker face. Speaking of Shirabu, he could probably help you with that. He has a perfect one.”

Goshiki took another drink, hoping the alcohol would kill his embarrassment.

It didn’t work.

“C’mon, Tsutomu. I’m just joking with you.” Tendou ruffled his hair, as if Goshiki was a small child instead of a fully grown college student. “It’s okay to have favorites. Semi-Semi is my favorite. Every time he’s on stage I can’t look away.”

Goshiki expected Semi to be nearby, in range of Tendou’s teasing. But he was still at the other end of the bar, which meant Tendou hadn’t just said that to provoke him. He must have meant it.

Tendou propped his chin in his hand. “Hell, he doesn’t even have to be on stage. It’s always hard to look away.”

Goshiki glanced between them, the gears of his mind turning. He realized, with a very belated epiphany, that Tendou was attracted to men. It should have been obvious, considering where they were, but Goshiki hadn’t taken the time to truly consider it. He hadn’t made assumptions about any of the dancers.

Now he wondered if maybe Shirabu liked men, too. Goshiki really, really hoped so.

As the thought crossed his mind, someone hopped into the tall chair two seats down from Goshiki. It took his startled brain much too long to realize it was Shirabu. 

He’d redressed in his shorts and that impossibly tight shirt. His feet were bare except for the fishnets, toes tucked neatly against the bar of his chair. He propped an elbow on the counter and waited for Semi to approach. 

When he did, it was with immediate disapproval. “What?” said Semi flatly.

“Neat whiskey,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki had forgotten what his voice sounded like. It was smooth, perfect.

Semi crossed his arms. “Wakatoshi said the dancers aren’t allowed to drink on shift anymore. You know that. He told us last week.”

Shirabu pointedly scanned the bar. “I don’t see Ushijima-san anywhere, do you?”

Semi’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not serving you.”

“We both know that rule is only for Yamagata-san. It’s never been a problem for the rest of us.”

“No, I don’t know that,” said Semi. “I only know what Wakatoshi said. Since he’s our _boss_ , I’m following his rules.”

For the first time since Goshiki had seen him, emotion touched Shirabu’s face. It was subtle, a sharp pull of his eyebrows, but Goshiki was watching him so closely that he had no problem noticing.

“Fine,” said Shirabu, the word slipping through his teeth. “Thanks for nothing, Semi-san.”

“My pleasure.”

Shirabu slid out of his seat and slipped through the tables on the main floor, winding into the crowd. He was probably on the hunt for someone to take into the back for a private dance. According to Tendou, that was the best way to make the most money. 

Goshiki didn’t watch to see if he was successful. He didn’t want to know.

“That little shit,” muttered Semi, still staring across the club after Shirabu. “His attitude will get him in trouble someday.”

“I doubt that,” said Tendou. “He’s nothing but respectful to Wakatoshi. He won’t catch trouble for backtalking you. Especially since you never complain on him.”

“Of course I don’t. I’m not _trying_ to get him in trouble.”

“Umm, are you talking about the bartender from last time?” asked Goshiki. “The one who didn’t like me?”

“Don’t say that, of course he liked you!” said Tendou. “It would be impossible for someone to dislike you. You’re adorable.”

Goshiki tried to respond, but could only manage a strangled, “Thank you!”

“Wakatoshi doesn’t come off as friendly,” said Semi, “but he’s not a bad guy. He owns the club, but he bartends on the weekends so I can dance.”

“Oh,” said Goshiki. He thought about the man he’d met, who’d introduced himself as Ushijima. Now that Goshiki considered it, he hadn’t had the attitude of a typical bartender. “Aren’t bartenders supposed to be… friendly? To get tips?”

Tendou laughed, and even Semi cracked a smile.

“Usually, yeah,” said Semi. “In a place like this it doesn’t matter much. These guys don’t care if we’re friendly or not. Their attention is on the stage, not the bartender.”

“Not always true,” argued Tendou. “If they’ve seen you dance, their attention is definitely on you, Semi-Semi.”

Semi gave him a look, but said nothing.

It was half an hour later when Shirabu went back on stage. Despite Tendou’s prompting, Goshiki didn’t move closer. He stayed in his seat by the bar, watching Shirabu in fascination. 

When the third and final song was ending, and Goshiki knew Shirabu would be leaving the stage soon, he leaned close to Tendou and said, in as close to a whisper as he could manage, “Tendou-san?”

Tendou matched the loud whisper. “Yes?”

Goshiki glanced around, checking to make sure no one would overhear. “How do the private rooms work?”

He was reluctant to ask, because he expected Tendou to taunt him. Surprisingly, Tendou only grinned and tilted closer, to speak more quietly. “Remember that lapdance you got last time?”

Goshiki nodded. He definitely remembered.

“It’s kinda like that,” said Tendou. “The private rooms are small, so it’s more personal. There’s a camera in there, to make sure you’re not doing anything creepy, but the bouncer will take one look at you and focus on someone else. You’re not the creepy type. When you get in there, the dancer picks what music they want. There’s a separate speaker that’s not connected to the main stage. You just kick back on the couch and enjoy the show. It’s more casual than out here. Quieter, too, so it’s easier to talk.”

Goshiki wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Of course he wanted to talk to Shirabu, but usually when Goshiki talked, he said something stupid. Especially if he was nervous, and he didn’t think he’d ever been more nervous in his life.

“Oh,” said Goshiki. “Okay.”

“Hypothetically speaking,” said Tendou, “if that’s what you wanted, you would just go up to the dancer of your choice and ask if they have time for a private dance. If they’re not busy, they’ll agree. We like doing private dances. It’s easier to pay attention to one person at a time instead of working the whole crowd. For most people, anyway. I prefer the stage, but that’s just me.” He straightened and lounged back against the bar, eyes back on the stage. “Most of the dancers flirt a little, to try and get tips. If that’s what you’re wanting, you should consider your options wisely. I don’t think Shirabu could flirt if his life depended on it. He’s lucky he’s pretty.”

Goshiki followed his stare, lingering on Shirabu as he went to his knees to collect offered money.

Tendou was right about that. Shirabu was definitely pretty.

Goshiki turned back around in his seat, raising a tentative hand when Semi glanced in his direction. 

“Another one?” asked Semi, clearing Goshiki’s glass away.

“Actually, I, umm… Can I get something different?”

“Whatever you want, kid,” said Semi. “If I don’t know how to make it, I’ll google it.”

“That’s where he learned bartending,” said Tendou, leaning back to grin at Semi. “Internet certified.”

Before Semi could snap back at him – and he would have, judging from his glare – Goshiki said in a rush, “Could I maybe get a neat whiskey please?” He held his breath after the question, expecting Semi to tell him no.

Semi looked from Goshiki to Tendou’s smirk and back again. “Are you serious?”

Goshiki nodded.

Semi sighed, but said nothing else. He put Goshiki’s dirty glass aside and grabbed a clean one.

“Bold move, Tsutomu,” said Tendou. “I like it.”

Goshiki didn’t say anything. He watched as Shirabu finished his dance and descended the stage, bundles of yen poking out of his fishnets. 

“Here,” said Semi. He slid the drink over, glare shifting across the club toward Shirabu. “You know if you get caught breaking club policy you’ll get kicked out, right?”

Goshiki sat up so stiffly that his spine ached. “What? I don’t- I haven’t-”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” said Tendou, waving a hand. “Thanks for the advice, Semi-Semi.”

Semi rolled his eyes and wandered off.

Tendou draped an arm across Goshiki’s shoulders and leaned in. “The important thing about the private rooms is that they’re _private_. If a rule or two gets broken in there, no one knows about it. And Wakatoshi isn’t here anyway. No one else cares.” He withdrew, and leaned back against the bar with a grin. “Go get him, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki swallowed around the lump in his throat and rose from his seat. He nearly forgot the whiskey altogether, but turned back and plucked it off the bar before easing his way toward the stage. 

Shirabu had paused at a nearby empty table, squeezing back into the clothes that gave him a false semblance of modesty. He stepped into the shorts and slowly rolled them up his thighs. They were so tight that Goshiki wasn’t sure how he’d gotten into them at all.

When Goshiki was a few steps away, Shirabu glanced up, taking him in with an impassive stare.

“Hi!” said Goshiki. It was too loud, and he knew it, but he was too nervous to tone it down. “I, umm… I was wondering if you’re busy? Because if you are I don’t want to bother you but if you’re not I wanted to ask for a… for a private dance?”

Shirabu’s face didn’t change. He adjusted his hair, which had been ruffled by his shirt. “Just one?”

“Yes! I mean… If that’s all then yes, but I heard that there’s a special and if I buy one then there’s another one and I…” He trailed off, suddenly certain that Tendou’s information had been wrong and Shirabu would be angry with Goshiki for trying to talk his way into a free dance.

Shirabu wasn’t bothered. “It’s 6500.”

“Right!” said Goshiki, relieved. He hardly registered the amount. Shirabu could have asked for 20,000 and Goshiki wouldn’t have argued.

He would’ve had to go back to the ATM for more of his parents’ money, but he would’ve done it.

Shirabu studied him before saying, “Okay then. Come on.” He took a wad of yen off of the table, the bills crumpled from being shoved into questionable places, and started toward the back of the club, past the stage.

Goshiki looked toward the bar, received an enthusiastic double thumbs-up from Tendou, and rushed to follow.

A curtain separated the back of the club from the main stage. Shirabu pushed it aside, waited for Goshiki to step through, and led him down a narrow hallway. There were doors on each side, labeled with numbers. Shirabu stopped at 10. He stepped into the room and said, “Close the door behind you.”

Goshiki hurried to obey. 

The room beyond the door was small, as Tendou had indicated. There was a plush leather couch against one wall and a set of speakers on a high table in the corner. A plain wooden chair was pushed against the far wall, out of the way. The floor was plain concrete, but a round rug cushioned Goshiki’s steps as he crept further into the room.

“You can sit,” said Shirabu, without looking at him. “I’ll start the music.”

Goshiki started to do so, and belatedly remembered the drink in his hand. “Oh! Here, this is for you.” He held out the whiskey, but Shirabu made no move to take it. He only stared, impassive.

“I don’t take payment in drinks.”

“No, it’s not like that!” explained Goshiki in a rush. “Semi-san wouldn’t give you a drink because of the rules so I got one for you instead. Tendou-san said you wouldn’t get in trouble because we’re in the private room.”

Shirabu’s nose scrunched, just slightly. “You know them?”

“Sort of! They danced last time I was here. They have been very nice to me.” Despite Tendou’s teasing, Goshiki still considered him nice. He’d ben helpful, in his own slightly intimidating way.

Still, Shirabu didn’t take the whiskey. “I don’t take drinks from strangers.”

Goshiki almost insisted he wasn’t a stranger, but realized to Shirabu, he was. Even if Shirabu had spent so much time in Goshiki’s thoughts that he felt they were solid acquaintances, obviously Shirabu wouldn’t feel the same.

“Oh,” said Goshiki. He frowned at the whiskey in his hand. He didn’t know why anyone would refuse a free drink, especially when it was something they liked. He specifically remembered Shirabu ordering neat whiskey. “Why?”

“I’m not trying to get drugged.”

Goshiki’s eyes went wide. “Oh! Of course! I should have thought of that. I’m sorry, Shirabu-san!”

For the first time since they’d entered the room, Shirabu’s face changed. It wasn’t in a good way. A scowl descended on his brow, his eyes going sharp. “How do you know my name?” he said, voice snapping.

Goshiki struggled for a response. It was hard to speak beneath the heat of Shirabu’s glare. “I, umm… I didn’t mean to say it, it’s just… Tendou-san told me, when I was here the first time. I didn’t ask him though! I didn’t ask at all. Not that I didn’t want to know but because… He just told me because I said you’re a good dancer and-”

“Stop talking.”

Goshiki snapped his mouth shut immediately.

Shirabu frowned at him, and it wasn’t a pleasant expression, but it was better than the scowl of a moment before. He studied Goshiki closely, and took the drink out of his hand. Shirabu sipped at the whiskey, eyes not leaving Goshiki. “Don’t call me that. I don’t go by my name here.”

“Right! I’m sorry. I won’t say it anymore.”

Shirabu seemed satisfied by that. He took a longer sip and turned back toward the speakers. “Sit.”

Goshiki did as he was told, relieved. He dropped into the middle of the couch, keeping at the extreme edge. He caught sight of the camera Tendou had mentioned, perched in the upper corner of the room. He immediately looked away from it, hoping no one on the other end was watching him too closely.

“I’ll take the money before I start,” said Shirabu, his back still turned.

“Right!” Goshiki hopped to his feet and dug out his wallet. He’d put the bigger bills there, for safekeeping. He counted out the 6500 that Shirabu had asked for and held it awkwardly in his sweaty palm as he waited. 

Shirabu tipped back the rest of his whiskey, put the empty glass aside, and tapped a button on the speaker. Music filled the room, washing out the distant thump of the song playing from the main stage. Shirabu took the money out of Goshiki’s hand, put it by the empty glass, and returned to stand in front of him. “Do you know the rules?”

“I think so?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

Goshiki bit his lip. He didn’t want to say no and sound stupid. Besides, the rules should be obvious. It wasn’t as if Goshiki was going to do anything wrong. He would sit back and keep his hands to himself and try not to hyperventilate. There was no way he could break any rules doing that. “Yes.”

Shirabu’s stare was level. “What’s your name?”

Tendou had told Goshiki to keep his full name to himself. It was good advice; advice that he’d intended to follow. Regardless, he blurted, “Goshiki Tsutomu.”

“Are you old enough to be here, Goshiki-kun?”

“Of course! I turned twenty-one in August.”

“You sound very proud of that.”

Goshiki fumbled for a response. He didn’t know what to say.

“Alright,” said Shirabu. The music shifted, dropping into something deeper. It was a rolling beat, one that Goshiki felt down to his bones. “Your dance begins now.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the missed update last week! I'll do my best to keep consistent Saturday updates until it's over. Thanks, guys. ^^

The beat rolled, and so did Shirabu’s hips.

Goshiki had watched him dance on the stage, and had even gotten a lapdance from him two weeks before. 

This was an entirely different kind of dancing, and Goshiki wasn’t prepared.

Even without the prop of a pole, Shirabu knew how to move. He swayed with the beat, perfectly in rhythm, and Goshiki immediately felt hot. Shirabu turned, presenting Goshiki with the slim expanse of his back, and dropped into a low crouch. He rose slowly, hands sliding from his ankles up to his knees and then higher. Goshiki had a quick flashback to the lapdance, but it had been nothing compared to this. 

Tendou had been right, when he’d said the private rooms were more personal. This didn’t feel like Shirabu was just sitting across Goshiki’s lap for money. It felt like he was dancing just for Goshiki, just because he wanted to.

Of course that wasn’t true, and Goshiki wasn’t stupid enough to believe it, but he thought for a few minutes he could let himself pretend.

Shirabu turned to face him again, his hands starting at his shoulders and feeling their way down to his waist. He dipped his thumbs into the band of his shorts and dragged them down, slowly, revealing an inch of lace at a time.

Goshiki had already seen what was beneath, but that didn’t make the unveiling any less exciting. 

Shirabu peeled the shorts off, slowly but gracefully. He kicked them into his hand and tossed them over his shoulder, standing in front of Goshiki in black lace and fishnets.

Goshiki knew he would see this exact scene in his dreams, probably for the rest of his life.

Shirabu took two steps forward, slowly. He leaned over Goshiki, hands on the back of the couch. That close, his eyes were a lighter shade than Goshiki had thought. They were almost hazel.

Shirabu slid one knee onto the couch, and then the other. His legs brushed against Goshiki’s thighs, and Goshiki thought he would combust.

Shirabu sat up on his knees and rolled his hips. It was perfectly in time with the music, but Goshiki had completely forgotten that music was even playing. He was too enthralled by the man in his lap to think of anything else. 

Shirabu danced like that, hips rolling and lace slipping _just barely_ to show more of his hipbones, until the song ended. There were a few seconds of silence between them. Goshiki was breathing harder than Shirabu, despite his lack of physical effort.

The first few notes of the next song played, and Shirabu said, “You can touch me. Since you know the rules so well, you must already know that.”

Goshiki stared up at him, his mind completely blank. 

Shirabu huffed a breath. He took Goshiki’s wrists, his hands surprisingly cool compared to Goshiki’s burning skin. He drew them closer, carefully settling Goshiki’s hands on his hips. The lace was soft under Goshiki’s fingers, and he became positive that his heart would stop before he left this room.

“Just nowhere inappropriate,” said Shirabu, as he started moving again. “Obviously.”

Goshiki tried to agree, but his voice wasn’t working.

The liquid roll of Shirabu’s hips was mesmerizing, especially when Goshiki could feel it under his palms. 

Shirabu moved, shifting to the side before straddling Goshiki in reverse. Rather than hovering on his knees, he sat in Goshiki’s lap, and Goshiki choked on his surprise.

A single rotation of Shirabu’s hips left Goshiki on fire. Part of the heat was arousal, but most of it was embarrassment. He was hard, and now Shirabu must know, too. There was no way he could miss it, not sitting in Goshiki’s lap like that. He must have been disgusted. He would tell security that Goshiki was harassing him and he would get kicked out and-

“I’m keeping this PG for you,” said Shirabu, glancing over his shoulder, “because you look like you might have an aneurism and I don’t want to be held responsible. I can take it up a notch, if you’d like.”

“No!” Goshiki didn’t know what the next level of this would be, but he could barely handle what was happening right now. “You can just- I mean, I’m good. This is good. Just keep… No.”

Shirabu’s mouth twitched before he turned away and rolled himself against Goshiki again.

It was torture of the best kind. A constant thread of worry pulled at Goshiki’s thoughts, because he expected Shirabu to storm away in repulsion at any moment. But Shirabu kept going, and Goshiki bit his lip so hard he wouldn’t have been surprised if it had bled. He was so captivated that he wouldn’t have noticed. He realized his hands had fallen away when Shirabu had turned around, and he raised them slowly, wondering if it was okay to touch Shirabu’s hips again. He wasn’t sure, and before he could decide, Shirabu grabbed his wrists and slapped Goshiki’s hands against the outsides of his thighs. The fishnet was rough compared to the lace. Goshiki barely noticed that, because he could feel Shirabu’s thighs flexing under his hands.

Goshiki thought, with perfect clarity and certainty, that this was the best ten minutes of his life.

He objectively knew it had been ten minutes, but it felt like much less when Shirabu dismounted Goshiki and plopped onto the couch beside him instead. The song had dragged to an end. Another one bled through the speakers to take its place, but Goshiki had only paid for two. 

If he’d had enough money in his wallet, he would have given it all to Shirabu for one more.

“Was that acceptable?” asked Shirabu. It sounded like a cursory question rather than genuine concern.

“Yes! That was- It was very- Yes, it was. Thank you, Shir-… I mean… Just, thank you.”

Shirabu nodded and stood. “Good. I’m keeping the extra as a tip, then. You overpaid, which isn’t surprising, considering how nervous you are.”

Goshiki wanted to insist that he wasn’t nervous, but the way Shirabu looked at him left no room for argument. He already knew, and if Goshiki denied it, he would be lying. 

He wondered if Shirabu thought he was just an anxious mess. It wasn’t far from the truth.

“Why did Tendou tell you to ask me for a dance?” said Shirabu, as he gathered his money off of the table by the speakers. “He usually recommends Griffin to the newcomers.”

Goshiki vaguely recognized that name, but he couldn’t remember which dancer it belonged to. “He didn’t tell me to ask you,” said Goshiki. “Well, he did, but… not like that. He asked who my favorite dancer was and I said it was you and he…”

Goshiki trailed off, rendered mute by the look Shirabu gave him. 

“Weren’t you here on a weekend, last time?” said Shirabu.

Goshiki nodded dumbly. He was baffled that Shirabu remembered. 

“Then you saw Phoenix dance.”

It took Goshiki’s hazy brain a few seconds too long to remember Phoenix was Semi’s stage name. “Yes!”

Shirabu’s mouth curved into a delicate frown. “Why did you want a lapdance from me that night, then?”

Goshiki stared at him. He didn’t know what Shirabu was getting at. “I don’t understand.”

Shirabu rolled up his money, studying Goshiki. He pressed a button on the speakers and the music cut into silence. In the distance, the thrum of the stage music was again audible. “You can go. I’m finished.”

“Right!” Goshiki hopped to his feet. His pants were slightly uncomfortable, but he thought that problem would go away as soon as he was away from Shirabu. “Thank you!”

“You don’t have to thank me. You paid me.”

“Right! But… thank you anyway.” He smiled at Shirabu, hoping he looked grateful rather than just awkward. When he ducked back into the narrow hallway, he was regretful that the dance had ended so quickly, but relieved that he was no longer under Shirabu’s sharp scrutiny.

He pushed through the curtain and emerged back into the main area of the club. It was exactly the same, but it seemed brighter, somehow. Goshiki though that must have been his mood, tinting everything in more pleasant shades of color. 

He returned to his seat at the bar, not even bothered by Tendou’s leer.

“Well?” prompted Tendou, as Semi floated closer to listen. “How was it? Did you jizz your pants?”

Semi reached across the bar to shove him. “Shut the fuck up, Tendou, seriously.” 

“No, I didn’t!” said Goshiki, proudly.

Tendou snorted a laugh. “Good for you, Tsutomu. You should’ve taken that bet, Semi-Semi. You would’ve won.”

Goshiki didn’t have enough time to process that before Semi spoke.

“Did he actually give you two dances, or did he try and short you?”

“No! He gave me two.”

“Was he nice to you?”

“Yes!” said Goshiki. “Very nice!”

Semi and Tendou exchanged a look. Tendou shrugged and said, “The kid must have low standards.”

“He was nice!” insisted Goshiki. “He asked me my name, and if the dance was okay. And he let me touch him. Not like, _touch_ him, but… just a little.”

Tendou’s brows crept up into the hair flattened across his forehead. “He let you touch him?”

Maybe Goshiki shouldn’t have said that. He didn’t want to sound like a creep.

“Maybe Shirabu is finally learning to be friendly with the customers,” said Semi.

“Or maybe this was an exception.” Tendou grinned at him.

Semi tilted his head at Goshiki, scrutinizing him in a way Goshiki didn’t understand. At length, he said, “I doubt it.”

Goshiki felt like he’d been insulted, although he didn’t understand why.

“How long are you staying tonight, Tsutomu?” asked Tendou. 

Goshiki checked the time. It was almost midnight already. He had to be up by seven-thirty for class. “Oh. I should go now, I guess. It’s late.”

“No way. The night is still young.” Tendou grinned at him from behind his glass. He’d gotten a refill while Goshiki was in the back. 

“If he’s in university,” said Semi, “then he probably has classes tomorrow.”

Tendou shrugged. “I slept through most of university and I did just fine.”

“You flunked out, dumbass.”

“No, I _dropped_ out,” corrected Tendou. “By choice. Don’t insult my intelligence.”

Semi rolled his eyes. “Go home, kid. Don’t listen to him.”

Goshiki looked between the two of them, uncertain.

Tendou sighed. “Fine. Go home, whatever. _But_ …” He leaned closer, his hooded eyes bright. “You should come out with us tomorrow! On Fridays we go for a late-night dinner after closing. No classes on Saturday, right?”

“Oh, uh… right!” He had no classes, but he had volleyball practice. That wasn’t until noon though, so it wouldn’t hurt him. But just because he could go didn’t mean that he should. It might be awkward, hanging out with Tendou and his friends. It was okay at the club, because he was allowed to be there. He’d paid a fee to get in. But going out with them in a group, where he didn’t belong…

Thinking about it made him feel awkward.

“I don’t think I should,” said Goshiki. “I wouldn’t fit in with all of you. I don’t work here, and I-”

“You could,” said Tendou, cutting him off. “Work here, I mean. Wakatoshi would give you a shot. The customers would be all over you.”

Goshiki’s face was so hot he felt like he’d been scalded.

“Ignore him,” said Semi. “He’s joking.”

Tendou seemed to be on the verge of saying something else, but Semi spoke over him.

“You can go with us if you want.” He ignored Tendou completely, addressing Goshiki alone. “It’s not a formal thing. We just go grab food because we’re all fucking starved after a night of dancing. We eat and hang out for a little while. It’s pretty chill.” 

Tendou propped his elbows on the bar. “All the regular dancers usually go. Just sayin’, in case that affects your decision.” His grin was smug, but Goshiki didn’t know why.

Goshiki should say no. He liked the club, and he liked these people, but he didn’t belong with them, not outside of these walls. He wouldn’t fit into their group, and maybe the other dancers wouldn’t even want him there. Maybe they wouldn’t like him.

There was no reason to go, anyway. He’d only wanted one more trip to the club, more exposure to try and get over the small taste he’d gotten from his first visit. 

He wasn’t sure how well that would work out for him, considering how much extra material he’d just gathered for self-indulgent daydreams, but he’d accomplished his mission. It was done, and he needed to go back to his normal life with his teammates, the life that didn’t involve this new strange company, even if he really enjoyed it.

“Shirabu did say he’s planning to go out with us,” said Semi, leaning on the counter. “He didn’t last time and he’s sick of hearing Tendou nag him about it. He’ll go just to shut him up.”

Goshiki’s resolve flickered and died. Suddenly, declining the invitation didn’t seem like an option. “Is it really okay if I go?” he asked. “I don’t want to just show up and be in the way and-”

“Oh Tsutomu, you could never be in our way,” said Tendou. “You’re too cute to be in the way. Right, Semi-Semi?”

Semi rolled his eyes, but when he addressed Goshiki, he sounded serious. “You really can come. No one cares.”

Goshiki looked between them. “You’re sure?”

Tendou patted Goshiki’s shoulder. “Very sure.”

Goshiki should have declined. He should have gone back to his dorm, gone to bed, and spent the weekend focusing on volleyball instead of mingling with these new people who may or may not have been his friends.

He should have said no, but he bounced in his chair and said, too loudly, “Okay!”

  
  
  
  
  
Class on Friday was miserable, and Goshiki was relieved he’d gone home when he did. If he’d stayed out any later, as Tendou had suggested, he would have been unconscious during his first three classes.

He scraped through them, putting forth minimum possible effort, and dragged himself to volleyball practice that evening. Fridays were always a short session, because the coach liked to run them into the ground on Saturdays. Even with the truncated practice, Goshiki barely made it through.

He’d gotten back to his dorm at about one-fifteen that morning. It wasn’t that severe, considering the habits of some of his less responsible teammates, but Goshiki had never made a practice of staying up late. He needed a full night’s sleep to function. By the time his excitement from the club had worn off – which had taken much longer than it should have – he’d gotten about four and a half hours of sleep. 

It became clear when he missed his fourth serve in a row that it hadn’t been nearly enough. 

“GoshikI! I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but fix it!”

“Yes!” said Goshiki, whipping around to offer the coach an apologetic bow. “Sorry! I’ll do better!”

As he jogged around to the other side of the court, he felt his teammates looking at him. Most of the time he liked when people watched him during volleyball, but now it wasn’t a good feeling. He felt like they were judging him, wondering why their ace was doing so badly. 

He kept his head down and tried not to mess up again.

When practice wound down, Goshiki was the first one out of the showers and out of the gym. He walked the familiar sidewalks around campus and climbed the stairs to his dorm room, sagging a little more with every step. As soon as he was through the door, he dropped his bag, collapsed onto his bed, and was asleep within minutes.

He may have dreamed. He usually did, in vivid colors and grand landscapes, with creatures he’d never seen and faces he couldn’t remember. More recently those dreams had included flashing stages and poles that stretched up to the sky, with dancers that flickered at the edges of his vision like wraiths, and one particular dancer who was always on center stage.

If he dreamed, he remembered nothing about it when he woke. His first conscious thought was that his arm was numb. The second was that it was pitch dark outside his window and he’d slept through the late-night dinner Tendou had invited him to.

Goshiki threw himself out of bed, turned the light on, and wildly searched for his cellphone. When he’d checked everywhere in the small dorm, he realized it was in his pocket. He whipped it out, the tension in his chest easing as he checked the time. It was one-thirty. The club didn’t close until two. He still had time.

Goshiki slumped back onto his bed with a sigh, anxiety sapping out of his taut muscles. 

It returned quickly when he noticed he had new messages, all of them from a number he’d saved the night before.

_Tsutomu! Are you coming by the club before dinner? I’ll give you a free dance!_

_Semi-Semi will, too. He likes you. It’s hard to tell sometimes because the way his face is._

_Tsutomu?? Don’t ignore me, you’re breaking my heart. Contrary to popular belief, I do have one._

_You don’t have to come to the club first. You can just meet us there._

_Tsu-to-mu~! If you don’t want to go, just say so. I’ll stop texting you, kay?_

Goshiki read the messages several times over, his sleep-hazy brain too muddled to understand. When it clicked into place, he hastily typed back a response.

_Sorry!! I fell asleep after practice! I still want to go if that’s okay! Sorry!_

He tossed his phone aside and stripped out of his clothes, digging through his wardrobe for something nicer. He didn’t think wearing a ragged set of old sweats would make a good impression. 

He’d just yanked on a pair of jeans when his phone chimed. He lunged across the room to grab it, tripped over the hems of his pants, and collapsed on his bed in a clumsy bundle. He grumbled to himself, but quietly. He’d been reprimanded for his noise level already, when the students in the dorm rooms on either side of him had complained about him during the first week of classes.

_If you want to stay home and sleep instead that’s okay, don’t let me stop you!_

Goshiki rushed to type back a response, his fingers tripping over the keys. Before he’d managed something legible, another message came through.

_I’m joking. Drag yourself out of bed and meet us there at 2:30. I’ll send you the address._

Before Goshiki had time to process that, one more text came through. It was the location of the restaurant, and Goshiki committed it to memory just in case the message disappeared. He crawled off of his bed, pulled his jeans on properly, and dove back into the wardrobe to choose a shirt.

It was the first time he would see them outside the club, but that probably didn’t matter. Tendou was just inviting him to be nice. It wasn’t as if they would really become friends and start hanging out. It wasn’t as if Shirabu was going to see him at the restaurant and immediately fall in love with him.

Still, as Goshiki got dressed and left the dorm, he couldn’t help hoping that those things would happen. 

His phone guided him to an izakaya a few blocks away from the club. By the time Goshiki got there, walking instead of braving the twilight zone that the train station became at that time of night, it was 2:37.

By the time he’d worked up the courage to enter, it was 2:44.

Goshiki had never been to this restaurant, but it had the same structure as most of the izayakas he’d visited with his teammates. The warm scent of fresh meat swaddled him as he crept further inside, past the friendly hostess who he awkwardly waved off. There weren’t many people around, considering the late hour, so it was all too easy to find his table. Even if he hadn’t spotted it, he would have recognized Tendou’s laughter from across the building.

The group had claimed an oversized booth in the back room. There were a dozen of them, and Goshiki knew most of the faces from the Plumage stage. They’d changed into streetwear, but it was obvious they were out after a long night’s work. Most of them were subdued, talking quietly among themselves, probably winding down from their shift. Tendou was the exception.

“Tsutomu!” he crowed, when he caught sight of Goshiki. “You made it! Come sit with me! Scoot over, Semi-Semi. You take up too much space.”

“You’re the one with fucking grasshopper legs,” snapped Semi. “You’re taking up enough room for three people.”

Regardless, he moved over, shuffling closer to the man on his other side. Goshiki recognized him from the club. His stage name was Falcon. He was the one Tendou had talked about the night before, who had a penchant for breakdancing.

Goshiki scanned the table once more before sitting on the end of the booth beside Tendou. 

Shirabu wasn’t there, and Goshiki tried to push back his disappointment.

“I told you he’d show up!” said Tendou, nudging his shoulder against Semi. “I can’t believe you doubted me.”

Semi propped his elbows on the table and cradled his head in his hands. His eyeliner was smeared at the edges, and he looked exhausted. “Stop yelling. I’m getting a migraine.”

Goshiki leaned forward, peering around Tendou. “Are you okay, Semi-San?”

Falcon, the man beside Semi, snorted. “Semi-san? Are you kidding me?”

“Cute, right?” said Tendou, grinning. “Don’t you just want to put him in your pocket and carry him around?”

Goshiki didn’t have time to be embarrassed by that. 

“Satori, I am begging you to shut up.” Semi didn’t even sound mad. His eyes were closed, palms pressed against his temples. 

“Okay, okay,” said Tendou, at a more reasonable volume. “Sorry. Everyone, this is Goshiki. Goshiki, this is everyone. You know Semi already. That’s Yamagata beside him.” Goshiki registered that name in his head instead of Falcon. “Across the table there is Kawanishi.” Goshiki knew that one too. Osprey. “And beside him is Oohira.” He was Griffin, and his smile was warm. Tendou continued the introductions, and Goshiki tried to memorize as many names as he could. He knew some stage names to pair with the real ones, but couldn’t place all of them. He’d seen them at the club, but had been too distracted to remember everyone.

When Tendou was finished, Goshiki bit his tongue to keep himself from asking about Shirabu. Tendou may have laughed at him, but it wouldn’t be in a mean way. He didn’t know about all these other people, though. 

“Our food should be here soon,” said Tendou. “I would’ve ordered for you, but I don’t know what you like.”

“That’s okay!” said Goshiki. Semi’s eye twitched, and Goshiki toned down his own voice. “I don’t mind waiting.” It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do at three in the morning. Other than sleeping, which would have been a more responsible alternative.

“You’re such a good kid, Tsutomu,” said Tendou. “Let me get you a drink.” He started to call for the waitress, glanced sideways at Semi, and settled for waving her over. He ordered a gin and tonic for Goshiki and a refill for himself. He was drinking beer instead of whatever alcoholic concoction he’d had the night before. He took a long gulp and said, “Wakatoshi’s new rule is killing me. I don’t know how you guys do it all week.”

“Get drunk before you show up for the shift,” said Yamagata. He tossed back a shot, as if setting an example. “By the time you sober up, it’ll almost be time to leave.”

“You’re going to get fired,” said Semi flatly.

Yamagata shrugged. “Doubt it. I make too much money. Ushijima needs me.”

“We’re all replaceable.” Semi folded his arms on the table and buried his face in them. His voice grew muffled. “You don’t think Ushijima can find another street thug who knows how to dance?”

“Sure he can,” shrugged Yamagata, “but I’m the best street thug there is.” 

Across the table, Kawanishi gave him a look that was pure judgment.

“Don’t look at me like that,” said Yamagata, scowling at him. “Your ritzy ass is up on the same stage as I am. You can’t judge me.”

“I’m not judging you for being street trash,” said Kawanishi, unruffled. “I’m judging you for being an idiot.”

“What the fuck do you-”

“Hey,” said Tendou sharply. He gestured at Semi. “If you’re gonna argue, pretend it’s backstage.”

Goshiki didn’t know what that meant, but the rest of them seemed to. Yamagata leaned across the table and spat an insult at Kawanishi, his voice scraping into such a low whisper that Goshiki couldn’t hear it from where he sat. The rest of the dancers seemed unconcerned. They continued their conversations as if nothing was wrong.

Tendou did the same. He turned back to Goshiki, and his grin was as wide as ever. “So how was your day, Tsutomu? Did you go to your classes like a responsible young college student?”

Goshiki took that cue to jump into a description of his classes. He left out the part where he’d dozed off during anatomy, because he didn’t want Tendou to laugh at him, but he covered everything else. He’d almost gotten to a retelling of his volleyball practice – which he intended to censor in an attempt to make himself sound better – when a pair of servers arrived with a large batch of food. It was distributed to the dancers, a chorus of gratitude rippling down the table as it was passed along. The men were all friendly, and Goshiki wondered if the servers knew what they’d been doing that night. If they did, they didn’t seem to care. 

“Sit up, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou, gently tapping his shoulder. “Your food is here.”

Semi mumbled something. Goshiki couldn’t make out the words but Tendou seemed to know what he meant.

“You’ve been dancing all night.” Tendou rested a hand on Semi’s back, at the base of his neck. “You need to eat.”

Semi said something else, and this time Goshiki caught a few syllables.

“I can’t, Satori. I’ll be sick.”

Tendou’s hand lingered. “Okay then. Want to get it boxed up for later, or…?”

The slight shake of Semi’s head was answer enough. Tendou sighed. “Do you like beef tataki, Tsutomu?”

“Oh, umm, yes?”

“Here, then.” Tendou put Semi’s plate in front of Goshiki. “Your dinner is on us tonight.”

Goshiki blinked down at the steaming meat, and then up at Tendou. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure. Enjoy it.”

“Thank you, Tendou-san!” Goshiki took a set of chopsticks from the middle of the table and started on the food, just in time for the waitress to return with his drink. He reached for it, and realized there was a full plate of food directly across from him, in front of a vacant spot on the bench. “Did they bring too much food?”

Tendou glanced up with a mouth full of rice, following Goshiki’s stare. He swallowed, and a slow grin curved his face. “That’s Shirabu’s. He ran out on an errand but he’ll be back in a minute or two.”

Goshiki’s heart skipped a couple of beats. The humor in Tendou’s eyes suggested he must have known. 

“Oh,” said Goshiki. He returned his attention to his food. “Okay.”

Tendou was still grinning. Goshiki felt it.

It was more than a minute or two. It was eight minutes later – not that Goshiki was counting – when Shirabu stepped up to their booth and slid into the open seat across from Goshiki. 

Goshiki froze, his mouth full of tataki. 

“Welcome back, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou. There was an edge of teasing in his voice, but he spoke lower than usual. Beside him, Semi still sat with his head down. “So nice of you to join us.”

Shirabu glanced at him, unimpressed, before his eyes shifted to Goshiki. “What’s he doing here?”

Goshiki swallowed too quickly and barely kept himself from choking. 

“I invited him.” Tendou draped an arm around Goshiki’s shoulders and leaned into him. “We’re friends now, aren’t we, Tsutomu?”

Goshiki swelled at the suggestion. “Right! We’re friends.”

Shirabu raised a brow, then dismissed the pair of them in favor of his food. Goshiki mimicked him, taking another bite of tataki and trying not to let his gaze stray across the table. He didn’t want to get caught staring at Shirabu. Tendou would laugh off something like that, but he was afraid Shirabu would be mad.

Conversations continued along the table as they ate. Goshiki gradually relaxed into the atmosphere, comforted by the warm buzz of speech. As he finished his meal, he picked up a list of observations about the dancers and tucked the new knowledge away in his head for future use. Oohira was a kind man who was well-liked by everyone at the table. Kawanishi had a sharp tongue, and he primarily wielded it at Yamagata. Yamagata was snappy himself, but he was good-humored beneath that, when he interacted with the others. Tendou was exactly the same as ever, if only a little quieter, for Semi’s sake.

Shirabu didn’t join the conversations. He simply ate, drank his way through a whiskey, and checked his phone every few minutes. He clearly wasn’t social, and Goshiki didn’t know if that was good or bad. It was good, because Goshiki wasn’t upset that Shirabu wasn’t talking to him, since he wasn’t talking to anyone. It was bad, though, because now Goshiki was afraid that if he did try and speak to Shirabu, it would only annoy him.

Either Tendou picked up on his inner turmoil, or he simply felt a need to interfere. Probably the latter.

“So, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou. He pushed his half-eaten meal to the middle of the table and propped up his elbows, grinning at Shirabu. “You were ravishing tonight. When you walked out in that corset I thought at least three old men in the audience would have heart attacks.”

Goshiki nearly bit through his tongue. He blindly reached for his drink, keeping his eyes down. He didn’t trust himself to look at anyone right now.

“Thank you,” said Shirabu. He sounded impassive, disinterested.

“And that last dance you did,” continued Tendou. “Been working on some new moves?”

“I wanted to try something. The club was mostly empty by then. It seemed like the best time.”

“Nah, the best time would’ve been right in the middle of the rush,” said Tendou. “That was hot. Semi-Semi would agree, if he was conscious.”

Goshiki chanced a quick glance upward. Shirabu was eyeing Semi, who was still slumped over on the table. When he looked away, his attention slid to Goshiki, who quickly turned his head.

“What do you think, Tsutomu?”

Goshiki jumped at the sound of his name. “What?”

“Oh, that’s right,” said Tendou, as if just remembering. “You didn’t come to the club tonight. You missed out. Maybe Shirabu will do that thing next time you’re there and you’ll get to see it.”

Goshiki couldn’t think of a single thing to say to that, and couldn’t bring himself to check Shirabu’s reaction. He reached for his drink instead. He drained the rest of it in one gulp and wished he had another.

“You had practice earlier, right?” said Tendou, easily carrying the conversation on his own. “You know, Shirabu used to play volleyball, too. That’s why he has such a tight little-”

“Would you like another drink?” asked the waitress, swooping in to take Goshiki’s empty glass. He’d never been happier to see someone in his life. He gave her an enthusiastic yes, and she left the table.

Tendou grinned. He stretched an arm across the back of the booth and leaned over to talk to Yamagata, dropping the volleyball conversation. Goshiki was half-relieved, but also half-disappointed. He frowned down at the table, his mind spinning. Tendou made a lot of jokes, but at least part of that had sounded serious. Goshiki glanced up at Shirabu, who scrolled through something on his phone. 

“Umm, Shirabu-san?” asked Goshiki. As soon as the name left his mouth he braced himself for disapproval, but remembered they weren’t at the club. It would have been more inappropriate to use his stage name, in this situation.

Shirabu tapped at his screen. “What?”

“Did you really play volleyball?”

Shirabu glanced up at him. The light glinted off of his hair, and Goshiki realized there was glitter in it. “When I was in high school.”

Goshiki gripped the edge of his seat, trying to keep himself calm. He got overly excited about volleyball at the best of times. He didn’t want to make an idiot of himself in front of Shirabu. “What position did you play?”

Shirabu looked at his phone again. “Setter.”

It took all of Goshiki’s willpower not to bounce in place. “That’s really cool! I’m a wing spiker. I’ve been the ace of my team since last year and I…” he trailed off, realizing he was talking about himself too much. He changed tactics and continued. “I’m sure you were a really good setter!”

“You wouldn’t know that,” said Shirabu, not looking at him. “You don’t know anything about me.”

Goshiki sank back, but wasn’t deterred. “I know you have really good coordination! Like… in your dancing. And setters have to be really coordinated. So you were probably really good at it.”

Shirabu raised his head, eyeing Goshiki with an unreadable expression. Goshiki smiled back at him, trying to keep his anxiety tucked out of sight.

Shirabu glanced down at the screen again. “Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome!”

That hadn’t been the most elaborate conversation, but Goshiki was pleased. He thought it was progress. He wondered if Tendou had overheard, but he was still engaged in conversation with Yamagata. Sometime during the past few minutes, Tendou’s fingers had found their way into Semi’s hair. They stroked through it gently, fondly. Goshiki wondered if Semi would’ve slapped him away, if he’d been awake.

Goshiki turned back toward Shirabu, who was still focused on his phone. Maybe Goshiki shouldn’t push his luck, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut. He’d always had a difficult time with that. “So what kinds of things do you like to do, Shirabu-san?”

“I don’t.” Shirabu tapped at the screen. “When I’m not working I do as little as possible.”

That didn’t give Goshiki much to work with. Maybe that was Shirabu’s intention. 

“Do you like working?” asked Goshiki.

“No one likes working.”

“Well that’s not true,” said Tendou, slipping into their conversation. Goshiki was quietly relieved. “I love working. At the club and at my day job.”

Goshiki opened his mouth to ask about that, but Shirabu spoke first.

“I’ll amend that. No one _normal_ likes working.”

Tendou considered that. “Yamagata likes-”

“The point still stands,” said Shirabu flatly.

“As harsh as ever, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou, grinning. “Hop up, Tsutomu. I’m taking Semi-Semi home and putting him to bed. I told him not to even come but he’s stubborn.”

Goshiki did as he was told, climbing out of the booth and stepping to the side as Tendou roused Semi and coaxed him to his feet. Goshiki teetered on the brink of whether to stay or leave, but Shirabu spoke up and made the decision easier.

“I’m going, too.” Shirabu put his phone away and rose. He started toward the door without acknowledging anyone at the table.

Goshiki swiveled around and gave a quick bow to his new acquaintances. “It was nice meeting you! Thank you for letting me join you!”

There were a few friendly murmurs, but Goshiki didn’t hear them. He was across the restaurant after Shirabu, Tendou and Semi lagging behind. The first step into open air was refreshing, but not as much of the sight of Shirabu bathed in the glow of a nearby streetlight. 

Goshiki wanted to say something. He wanted to ask more questions, find out something about Shirabu. All knew was Shirabu had played volleyball in high school. That wasn’t enough information.

He had a hundred questions, maybe more, but when he stepped closer to Shirabu, he bit his tongue. Goshiki knew he could be annoying, and Shirabu seemed like the type of person who wouldn’t have a high tolerance for it. He didn’t want Shirabu’s first outside impression of him to be that he was an annoying kid. He wanted Shirabu to like him.

Rather than posing one of the insistent questions gnawing at his mind, Goshiki said, “I hope you have a good night, Shirabu-san!”

Shirabu’s glance was fleeting. “Thanks.” He started walking in the opposite direction that Goshiki would have to go. Goshiki wondered if he could pretend that he lived that way too, just to walk with him for a while.

That might have been creepy, though.

The izakaya door swung open, and Tendou and Semi emerged. Semi’s eyes were still mostly closed. The only thing keeping him walking in a straight path was Tendou’s guiding arm across his shoulders. 

Tendou looked down the sidewalk, where Shirabu had reached the end of the block and was turning onto the adjacent street. With a shake of his head, Tendou said, “Guess you didn’t talk him into going home with you. Better luck next time.”

“I didn’t try!” said Goshiki. He hoped the darkness concealed his blush. 

Tendou’s grin suggested he’d been teasing. “How far back to your dorm?”

“A while, if I walk. A little faster if I take the train.”

“Will you be okay out there this late at night?”

“Yes, of course!”

“Alright then.” Tendou patted Semi’s shoulder, gently. “We’re gonna head out. Take care of yourself, Tsutomu. See ya soon?”

“Soon,” repeated Goshiki brightly. “Sure! I hope you feel better, Semi-san.”

Semi mumbled a thank you.

“He’ll be fine,” said Tendou, as he steered Semi down the sidewalk. “He gets migraines a lot. It’s his only flaw. Someone so beautiful and intelligent is destined to have something wrong with them. Otherwise it wouldn’t be fair to the rest of us.”

It was a testament to how terrible Semi must have felt that he didn’t even tell Tendou to shut up.

Goshiki watched them go, something like fondness swelling in his chest. Tendou had said earlier that they were friends now. It hadn’t sounded like one of his jokes. It had sounded like he’d meant it. Goshiki wondered if he and Semi were friends now, too. Semi had been nice to him at the club. He would have probably been nice at the restaurant too if he’d been awake. 

Hesitantly, he wondered if maybe he and Shirabu could be friends. They clearly weren’t now, but he thought it was possible. Goshiki was good at making friends.

The problem was that Goshiki didn’t want to just be friends with him.

Goshiki tucked his hands in his pockets and headed back toward campus. He’d walked there, so he figured he could walk back, too. It was better than facing the strange people who would be on the train that time of night. He supposed he was one of those strange people too, for being out so late.

As he started the long walk home, he thought about Semi, and how long his migraine would last. Goshiki hoped it would fade soon.

That train of thought was fleeting, and Goshiki’s mind returned to Shirabu. That’s where it had been spending much of its time, and Goshiki had a feeling that wouldn’t change anytime soon.


	4. Chapter 4

Despite the extra level of distraction Goshiki had been given from his private dance and his late night out with the dancers, he found himself as focused as usual during classes and practice the following week. His thoughts still drifted away from him at times, but it was easy to pull them back into the present.

Goshiki thought it was because he’d already decided to go to the club again. It gave him something to look forward too, rather than leaving himself to obsess over what had already happened in the fear that he would never experience it again.

His classes went smoothly, his coach complimented him during practice, and by Thursday night when he was on his way to Plumage, he was in the best mood he’d experienced in recent memory.

That was dampened only slightly when Tendou finally responded to his text of a couple hours before.

_Sorry Tsutomu, I won’t be around much tonight! But I’ll drop in for a little while after practice to see you. Semi-Semi is there, though. He’ll take care of you._

Goshiki read through the message several times, puzzled. He couldn’t figure out what sort of practice Tendou was talking about. His first thought was obviously volleyball, but surely Tendou would have mentioned that before. Besides, Tendou had a day job in addition to his weekend dancing at the club. Goshiki didn’t know when he’d have time to practice for something else. Goshiki could barely make time amid his full school and volleyball schedules to venture out to the club.

As he paid the cover charge and stepped inside, his excitement was slightly lower than the week before. That didn’t stop him from repeating the same pattern: identifying the dancers on the stage, turning away when he confirmed they weren’t Shirabu, and making his way to the same seat at the bar that he’d occupied the week before.

The crowd at the bar was scarce. Most of the customers had already collected their drinks and moved closer to the stage. Semi passed over one last beer before catching sight of Goshiki. Instead of walking over, he started mixing a new drink while Goshiki turned in his seat to watch the stage. It wasn’t as entrancing without Shirabu, but he couldn’t deny that the current dancers were good, too. He recognized Kawanishi, whom he’d met the week before. He was tall and lean like Tendou, but he moved differently. He was lithe and limber, his movements slow but sensual. Kawanishi felt his way down his own chest, spread palms inching down his stomach, lingering over his-

Goshiki tore his eyes away and watched a different dancer instead. Still, from the corner of his eye he saw a flurry of money flutter to the stage at Kawanishi’s feet.

Goshiki was grateful this wasn’t a full nude club. He didn’t think he would’ve been able to handle it.

“Here you go, kid.” Semi slid a drink in front of him. It was a gin and tonic, Goshiki’s favorite.

“Thank you, Semi-san,” said Goshiki. He smiled as he reached for it. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Semi pressed his fingertips against his temple, as if confirming. “The migraine lasted for a couple days but I’m over it now.”

“Good! Good that it’s over, I mean. It’s not good that it happened at all.”

Semi shrugged. “I’m used to it. I’ve had migraines since I was a kid. Tendou takes care of me when I’m down, so it’s not too bad.”

Goshiki blinked. That was the nicest thing he’d heard Semi say about Tendou.

“He’ll be here soon,” said Semi, checking the time. “He told me to make sure you didn’t leave until he got here. I don’t know how he expects me to stop you.”

Goshiki smiled again. “I’m not going anywhere!”

Semi accepted that declaration with a nod and moved down the bar, where another man had climbed into one of the high seats. 

Goshiki’s smile didn’t abate as he sipped at his drink. He really liked Plumage. He felt like he belonged there. It wasn’t the only place he fit in - he’d always gotten along with his team, and he had several classmates with whom he had regular study sessions - but this was different. He’d never talked to any of those people about his personal life. He hadn’t told them that he’d spent the last five years trying to like girls, because he knew he was supposed to. He hadn’t told them about the nights he’d lost sleep because he’d accidentally thought a boy was attractive. He’d always kept those closely-guarded secrets to himself.

He hadn’t told those things to anyone at Plumage either, but it felt different. If he’d chosen to tell Tendou, or Semi, or maybe any of the other dancers here, he wouldn’t be afraid of their reactions. He thought they would understand. 

Goshiki liked Plumage because it was full of people who accepted him; not because of the way he presented himself, but because of who he was beneath that.

This was the one place Goshiki didn’t have to be afraid of who he was.

_“Next up to center stage!”_ The DJ’s voice slipped through Goshiki’s musings, drawing his attention. _“He’s a favorite of the regulars. If you’re a newcomer, he’ll soon be one of your favorites, too. Welcome Plumage’s Raven!”_

Goshiki sat up straighter, his breath catching as Shirabu ascended the stairs to the stage. He wore the same clothes that Goshiki had seen on his first visit to the club, and he already knew there was wine red lace underneath.

Goshiki was too absorbed to notice Semi’s return, but when he spoke, his voice was right by Goshiki’s ear.

“You’re really into him, huh?”

Goshiki jumped, but didn’t look away from the stage. Despite his blush, he didn’t stutter over a response like he would have done if Tendou had said the same thing. Tendou would have been teasing, trying to fluster him. Semi sounded as if he was only curious.

“Yes,” Goshiki admitted. He took a sip of his drink, so he wouldn’t have to immediately say anything else. On stage, Shirabu stripped off his shirt and tossed it behind him, the tinted lights playing beautifully against his skin. “Please don’t tell him.”

“No worries, kid.” Semi gripped Goshiki’s shoulder. “Your secret is safe with me.”

Goshiki slumped a little in relief.

“But would it be such a bad thing if he knew?” asked Semi. “That’s how it works, right? When you like someone you’re supposed to tell them.”

Goshiki shook his head. “Yes, but not… not like this. Not with him. He’s too…” He struggled for the right word and came up blank. “I don’t know.”

It was an unhelpful explanation, but Semi seemed to understand. A minute passed between them, during which Shirabu stripped down further. As Goshiki suspected, he wore only wine red lace.

“Most of the time when someone is interested in a dancer,” said Semi, “it’s because they just want a good fuck.”

Goshiki had chosen that unfortunate second to take another drink. He choked over it, nearly fumbling his glass before he placed it back on the bar. “That’s not- I don’t-”

“Take a breath. I’m not saying that’s what you want.” Semi propped his elbows on the counter, leaning closer. “I’m saying the opposite. That’s what most people want, and that’s why the dancers are never interested in customers. If you knew how many guys have flirted with me all night and then tried to pay me to suck them off in a private room, you’d understand.”

Goshiki was appalled. He wasn’t naïve enough to think everyone came here with pure intentions, but to try and buy _that_ …

“That’s gross,” said Goshiki, looking away from the stage just long enough to glance back at Semi. 

“Yeah, a lot of these guys are gross.” Semi gestured to the customers seated around the stage. “Most of them are decent enough to keep it to themselves, though. Even if someone asks for something like that, they usually drop it when we say no. There’s only been a few who’ve been dicks about it, and they’re not allowed to come here anymore.”

Goshiki tried to imagine that, being so rude to a dancer that a permanent ban was enforced. He couldn’t wrap his head around it. “Oh.”

“My point,” said Semi, “is that we’re conditioned to think everyone just looks at us as a piece of ass. If you’re actually interested in him then you have to prove that’s not how you think of him, you know? Going out with us last week was a good start. That’s probably why Tendou invited you.”

“Do you think…” Goshiki cut himself off and wondered if he should even ask. If Tendou had been around he wouldn’t have dared. Tendou would have laughed for sure. Semi was always more serious though, so maybe it wouldn’t hurt. “Do you think… eventually, not right now, but… Do you think maybe he could like me too? Sometime? Maybe?”

“I think anybody should like you, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki perked up. “Really?”

“Really. Just… if he doesn’t, don’t take it personally. Shirabu doesn’t like anyone much. It’s just how he is.”

Goshiki deflated again. “Oh.”

“Get to know him,” said Semi. He stood upright as another customer approached the bar. “Once you do, you might not even like him anymore. He’s hard to deal with sometimes.”

He went off to take the drink order, and Goshiki continued watching Shirabu dance.

Goshiki had already learned that Shirabu wasn’t friendly. That hadn’t deterred him, and Semi’s advice didn’t, either. Goshiki knew he liked Shirabu, despite his lack of amicability. It wasn’t because Goshiki wanted an intimate night with him, as Semi had said. Shirabu was attractive, but he was also interesting; mysterious in a way that made Goshiki desperate to learn more about him.

That wouldn’t be easy, considering how withdrawn Shirabu seemed to be, but Goshiki had never backed down from a challenge.

Shirabu’s dancing was flawless, as always. Goshiki was entranced until the moment he stepped off stage. As soon as his bare foot touched the floor, Goshiki threw back the rest of his drink, left his glass on the bar, and threaded his way across the room toward him. His heartbeat was in his throat and his palms were sweaty, but he pushed past the nerves as he approached.

“Hi, Shirabu-san!”

Shirabu looked up at him, something sharp in his eyes.

Goshiki realized too late that he’d made a mistake. “I mean Raven! Sorry! I wasn’t thinking!”

“I could’ve guessed that.” He said it under his breath, so low that Goshiki wasn’t certain he’d even heard it. Shirabu spoke up and added, “You want another dance?”

Goshiki had only wanted to talk to him, but maybe Shirabu wasn’t willing to do that when he was working. This was his job, after all. There was no reason for him to waste valuable time with Goshiki when he could be getting paid. 

But if Goshiki was the one paying him, it should be okay.

“Yes! Please.”

“Lap dance or private dance?”

Goshiki wavered. Of course he preferred a private dance, so they could be alone. He had enough money in his pocket to buy one, but he was running out of excuses to tell his mother about why he needed so much extra money lately. It would be in his best interest to hang onto it so he wouldn’t have to withdraw so much next time.

Logically he knew that, but still he found himself saying, “A private dance, if that’s okay?”

“Sure.” Shirabu gathered his clothes where they’d been tossed to the side during his performance. “Go on back. I’ll be right there.”

“Okay!” Goshiki rushed to do as he was told, heading toward the back of the club and slipping past the curtain. The rooms were just as he remembered, collected along both sides of the narrow hallway. He stopped just beyond the curtain, unsure if he was allowed to go into the room on his own. He wasn’t even certain Shirabu would use the same room as last time.

The wait was awkward, but it didn’t last long. Not even five minutes slipped by before Shirabu pushed the curtain aside, his clothes draped over his shoulder and a drink in his hand. He led the way down the hall, to the door marked 10, and Goshiki followed.

“Did they change the rules?” asked Goshiki, as Shirabu waved him inside. 

“What?”

“About drinking.” Goshiki sat on the couch without prompting. 

Shirabu took a sip of his whiskey before putting it aside to adjust the speakers. “No, we’re still not allowed.”

“Semi-san gave you one anyway?” That didn’t seem right. Last week, Semi had been very adamant about following the rules.

Shirabu snorted. “Of course he didn’t. I went behind the bar and got it myself. He couldn’t stop me without making a scene.”

“Will you get in trouble?”

“Doubt it.”

Goshiki considered that. “I’m sorry,” he said, as the first notes of an unfamiliar song curled through the speakers. “I should have gotten one for you, like last time. I didn’t think about it.”

“Don’t apologize for something stupid,” said Shirabu. He turned the speakers up, and in the small room, the music was tangible in the air.

Unlike last time, Shirabu didn’t begin with a solo dance or a striptease. Maybe it was because he was already stripped down to bare lace. Goshiki didn’t have time to think about it. As soon as Shirabu moved away from the speakers he was in Goshiki’s lap, straddling him in the same way he’d done last time. His arms brushed Goshiki’s shoulders as he gripped the back of the couch, face as impassive as ever.

Goshiki raised his hands on instinct. They hovered at Shirabu’s hips, but Goshiki curled his fingers into his palms and let them fall away. “Shirabu-san?”

“What?” He went up on his knees and rolled his hips, so close to Goshiki’s face that it immediately caught fire. 

Goshiki considered keeping his mouth shut. If this was already happening in the first five seconds of the dance, maybe Shirabu intended to do something different than last time. Goshiki had a feeling he would enjoy it.

He shook the thought out of his head and said, “Could we talk?”

“Talk if you want.” He took one of Goshiki’s hands and pressed it against the outside of his bare thigh. “I told you last time you can touch me.”

Shirabu’s skin was smooth under Goshiki’s fingers. From the looks of him, he was smooth everywhere.

Goshiki swallowed. “Could you… stop for a minute?”

Shirabu went stiff, still perched on his knees. “This isn’t good for you?”

“No! I mean, yes! Of course it is! I just… I can’t focus when you’re doing… umm. That.”

Shirabu sat back, his weight settling on Goshiki’s knees. 

If someone had ever told Goshiki he would someday have someone like Shirabu sitting in his lap, he would have called them a liar.

But he reminded himself Shirabu wasn’t doing this by choice. He was doing it for money.

“What do you want to talk about?” asked Shirabu, when Goshiki didn’t speak. “If you’re thinking of asking for more than a dance-”

“I’m not! Really. I just want to talk to you.”

Shirabu studied him. “You can’t drag this out for more than two songs. You’re getting charged the same, whether I’m talking or dancing.”

“That’s fine. Oh! I forgot to pay you first, I’ll just-”

Shirabu seized Goshiki’s wrist and yanked it away from his pocket. “Just wait until the end. It’s not like you’re going to short me.”

“Of course not.”

“What do you want to talk about?” repeated Shirabu.

Goshiki stared up at him. Even when he wasn’t moving, it was difficult to think with Shirabu this close. His shoulders were back, leaving him on display. His body would have been distracting enough, but Goshiki couldn’t look away from his face.

“Umm.” Goshiki was very aware that he sounded dumb. He couldn’t help it. “How’s your night going?”

Shirabu glanced down at himself. “This about sums it up.”

“Oh, right.” Goshiki belatedly remembered what Shirabu had said at the izakaya the week before. “You don’t like your job.” Suddenly he felt guilty for buying a dance at all.

Shirabu shrugged. “It’s not terrible all the time. Tonight hasn’t been bad.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If any of the guys out there are creeps, they’re hiding it well.”

Goshiki chose to twist that into a compliment. It meant Shirabu didn’t think Goshiki was a creep, either. 

He realized his hand was still on Shirabu’s thigh. He didn’t move it.

“What do you do, in your free time?” asked Goshiki. “When you’re not here?”

“I thought I already told you. As little as possible.”

That wasn’t a great answer, but Goshiki couldn’t even be annoyed. It was proof that Shirabu remembered their conversation from the restaurant.

Shirabu seemed confused by Goshiki’s smile. “What?”

“Nothing! Do you still watch volleyball? Since you used to play?”

“I watch the national games sometimes. Not always.”

“What about movies?” asked Goshiki. “Do you like movies?”

Shirabu pushed a hand through his hair, clearing it off of his forehead. “It depends.”

“On what?”

“On what kind of movie. Is this really how you want to waste your money, Tsutomu?”

A pleased shiver trickled down Goshiki’s spine. 

Shirabu knew his name.

“It’s not a waste,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you. Unless… if you don’t want to, that’s okay. You don’t have to just because I’m paying you.”

Shirabu’s head tilted to one side, just slightly.

“Do you work here every night?” asked Goshiki, searching for any question to break the tension.

“Mostly. The club is closed on Sundays and I don’t work on Mondays.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“A year, almost.”

“What did you do before?”

A crease appeared between Shirabu’s brows. “Why do you care?”

Goshiki sat farther back against the couch, trying to escape from the edge in Shirabu’s voice. “I’m just curious. You don’t have to answer. It’s not a big deal.”

Shirabu’s frown didn’t abate. “I don’t talk about my personal life with customers.”

It felt like a slap through the face, but it shouldn’t have. Goshiki was just another customer. Of course that’s the only way Shirabu would think of him. “Oh. That’s fine, then.”

The music shifted, the rhythm kicking into something heavier. Shirabu said, “Your first song is over.”

Goshiki didn’t feel like enough time had passed for it to be over. “Right.”

“Do you still want the second one? If you don’t, I’ll only charge you half. It’s not like I’ve done anything.”

“No, I still want it! If that’s okay.”

“Do you want me to dance or talk?”

In a perfect world, the correct answer would have been _both_. But it wasn’t a perfect world, and Goshiki wasn’t greedy. 

“Do you like the other dancers?” asked Goshiki. “Like Tendou-san and Semi-san?”

Shirabu sighed and settled more comfortably on Goshiki’s lap. He was warm. “I don’t hate them. Tendou is annoying, but he helped me out when I first started. Semi… is Semi.” He didn’t elaborate, and Goshiki thought it wise not to press.

“Tendou-san was really nice to me the first time I was here,” said Goshiki. “He’s still really nice to me. I’m not sure why.”

“He has a weakness for strays.” That could have come off as harsh, but Shirabu didn’t say it that way. It was a fact, not an insult. 

“I’m a stray?”

“In a way.” Shirabu’s head tilted a little more. “You wandered in here like a lost puppy. Tendou picked you up, dusted you off, and decided to keep you.”

Goshiki’s cheeks warmed. “He didn’t- That’s not-”

“That’s exactly what happened.” Shirabu’s mouth curved, so subtly that Goshiki barely saw it. “If he hadn’t, someone else would have. One of the customers, probably. They wouldn’t have been so nice about it.”

Goshiki remembered what Tendou had told him that first night, about watching his drink and not leaving with anyone. If Tendou hadn’t spent most of that night with him, Goshiki wondered if things would have gone differently.

“Why do you look sad?” asked Shirabu flatly.

“I’m not sad.” Goshiki glanced off to the side. “I just… I don’t want him to be nice to me because he feels sorry for me. If that’s all it is-”

“It isn’t. He likes you. He hasn’t shut up about it for two weeks.”

Goshiki felt warm, and this time not in an embarrassed way. “Really?”

“Really. It’s annoying.” 

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

Shirabu rolled his eyes. 

“What about the others?” asked Goshiki. “Kawanishi-san and Oohira-san and Yamagata-san.” They were the only ones whose names he’d retained since last week. “Do you like them?”

Shirabu sighed, and seemed to accept his circumstances. He shifted off of Goshiki and leaned against the arm of the couch, stretching his legs across Goshiki’s lap. He sat back, folded his arms, and went into shallow explanations of his opinions on the other dancers. Goshiki asked a few more questions, latching onto Shirabu’s answers as if they were spoken gospel.

The second song wound down much too quickly. When it tapered off, another one swelled to take its place, but they’d reached the limit. 

“Your time is up,” said Shirabu. “You owe the full amount. I warned you.”

“Right!” As soon as Shirabu pulled his legs back, Goshiki leaned forward to fish the wallet out of his back pocket. He counted out the money – the correct amount, this time – and passed it to Shirabu. Shirabu didn’t count it. He folded the bills in half and crossed the room to tuck them into the pocket of his shorts. 

“Thank you, Shirabu-san,” said Goshiki, as he rose to leave the room.

“There’s nothing to thank me for. I literally did nothing.”

“You talked to me. I enjoyed it. Thank you.”

Shirabu gave him a look, expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything, and Goshiki ducked back into the hallway and headed for the main area of the club. He didn’t have the same rush in his veins that he’d felt last time, when Shirabu had given him a proper dance, but his satisfaction was just as great. They’d had a full conversation, and Shirabu hadn’t even gotten annoyed with him.

Unless he was just good at hiding those sorts of feelings. He wasn’t allowed to get annoyed with the customers, after all.

“There’s my Tsutomu!” 

Tendou’s voice carried halfway across the club. He caught him before he’d even reached the bar, slinging one of those long arms around Goshiki’s shoulders and steering him over. 

“I was wondering where you’d ran off to! I knew you wouldn’t leave without at least waiting to say hi to me, right?”

“Of course not!” said Goshiki. “I was, umm…”

Tendou glanced behind them, where Shirabu had just emerged from behind the curtain, redressed. His grin turned into a leer. “Oh, I know exactly what you were doing, Tsutomu. Have fun back there?”

Goshiki looked away, face burning, and didn’t answer. Tendou just laughed.

Semi brought both of them drinks, and Goshiki fell into the same comfortable ambiance that he’d experienced the week before. The difference was that when his mind drifted, it wasn’t to fleeting memories of Shirabu dancing for him. Instead he thought of a list of questions that he should have asked when he’d had the chance. 

Shirabu went on stage a short while later, and Goshiki watched him with a new sense of appreciation. He felt he knew something about Shirabu, now. It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d had before. 

It was more than any of these anonymous men knew about him, at least.

When the time began creeping close to 11, Goshiki decided he should go. He’d learned his lesson about staying out too late the week before. He didn’t want to churn his way through tomorrow’s classes with the attention span of a living zombie. He hopped off his chair, made a quick trip to the bathroom, and returned to tell Tendou goodbye.

He was nowhere in sight, and Goshiki didn’t hear his voice floating around nearby. 

Goshiki leaned against the bar and said, “Semi-san?”

Semi was busy mixing a drink, but he glanced over his shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Where is Tendou-san?”

“He stepped out for some air.”

“Oh! I’ll see him on the way out, then. I’m leaving. Goodbye, Semi-san!”

“Wait, not that way.” Semi turned and a splash of alcohol dripped across his fingers. “It’s out back, where the dancers go for smoke breaks. Just go through the curtain and turn right. You’ll find the exit door.”

Goshiki looked over his shoulder, at the curtain that led to the private rooms. “Am I allowed to go back there?”

Semi passed the drink to a customer, shook the alcohol off his hand, and stepped close to speak more quietly. “Technically no, but it’s fine. Tendou has introduced you to everyone in here, anyway. No one will stop you.”

Goshiki beamed. “Okay! Thank you, Semi-san!”

Semi’s mouth curved into a soft smile. Goshiki shrugged into his jacket and headed past the stage, toward the back of the club. He kept an eye on his surroundings as he went, but no one spared him a second glance. Kawanishi emerged from the curtain, accompanied by a customer, as Goshiki reached it. He only offered Goshiki a slight nod and went about his business, unconcerned.

Goshiki was still smiling as he pushed his way through and took a right, as Semi had said. He cut another corner and found the exit door at the end of the corridor. It was propped open, a curl of cold air slipping through. Tendou’s voice was audible beyond, and Goshiki reached out to push the door open.

He stopped when another voice responded to Tendou, a familiar one. Goshiki’s heart did a fluttering cartwheel. 

“That’s ridiculous.”

It was flat, emotionless, just as it had sounded every other time Goshiki had heard Shirabu speak.

“Is it, though?” said Tendou. His grin was evident in his voice. Goshiki peeked through the crack in the door, trying to see the pair of them, but all he found was a view of Tendou’s back. “I can’t see the problem here. He’s cute, right? Don’t you think he’s cute?”

Goshiki leaned a little closer, listening intently. 

“Does it matter?” said Shirabu.

“Of course it matters! It matters a lot. He’s cute and you know it.”

“Kittens are cute,” said Shirabu. “That doesn’t mean I want to take home every kitten I see on the street.”

Tendou laughed. “This is a special kind of kitten, though.” He moved, and Goshiki went rigid, afraid he was about to be caught eavesdropping. Instead Tendou flopped down on a bench just beyond the door, clearing Goshiki’s view. He could see Shirabu now too, but only the back of his head. Tendou stretched an arm along the back of the bench, behind Shirabu’s shoulders. “If I didn’t already have a beautiful kitten of my own, I might try to scoop this one up for myself.”

“That’s bullshit. He’s not your type.”

“Maybe so. More importantly, is he _your_ type?”

Goshiki pressed a hand against the wall to steady himself. The air from outside was cool against his warming face. 

He hadn’t caught the first part of the conversation, but he suspected they were talking about him. Maybe he should interrupt, before Tendou said too much.

Maybe, but he remained frozen in place, still listening.

“No.” Shirabu’s voice was quieter, but Goshiki still heard it. “He’s not.”

Goshiki’s heart sank. He wanted to sink with it.

“You have a good poker face, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou, “but I still know when you’re lying.”

Goshiki perked back up immediately.

“I’m not lying.”

“Sure you are.”

“You don’t know anything about it.”

“Please. You act like I’ve learned nothing about you over the past year.” Tendou stretched his legs out and leaned his head back, looking up at the sky. Goshiki eased away from the cracked door, just in case he looked back. “I know you, Kenji-kun. Even if you don’t want me to.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“I won’t argue with that,” said Tendou agreeably. “But so are you, if you’re really going to sit there and say you don’t think Tsutomu is the cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”

A static burst of nerves pulsed beneath Goshiki’s skin at the sound of his name. He’d already thought they were talking about him, but the confirmation gave his anxiety a sharper edge.

He should really step outside, before he heard too much. 

“He bought another dance from you tonight?” asked Tendou.

Goshiki still didn’t move.

“Sort of.”

“That’s typically a yes or no question.”

There was a dragging pause before Shirabu spoke. “He bought a dance, but he wouldn’t take it. He wanted to talk instead. Asked me two songs’ worth of stupid questions.”

Goshiki thumped his forehead against the wall. He should’ve come up with better questions.

“That’s precious,” said Tendou. “He’s interested in you.”

“He thinks he is,” said Shirabu. “He’s wrong.”

Goshiki peeked outside again. Tendou was watching Shirabu now, with a focused tilt of his head. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Shirabu pushed a hand through his hair. It lingered at the back of his skull, skin pale in the low-lit alley. “He’s just a kid. He doesn’t know any better.”

Goshiki wanted to argue, but since he couldn’t, Tendou did it for him.

“C’mon, Kenji. He’s a year younger than you.”

Goshiki quickly added that to the collection of facts he’d gathered about Shirabu. _He’s only 22._

Shirabu sighed. He sat back against the bench, staring straight ahead despite Tendou’s undivided attention. “He’s not interested in me. Not really.”

“Are you blind?”

Goshiki wanted to curl up in the corner and die. He didn’t think he’d been that obvious.

“He likes the way I look,” said Shirabu. “Not me. He doesn’t know anything about me. If he did, he wouldn’t be interested anymore.”

There was something melancholic about that. It soaked Goshiki to his core.

“You’re too hard on yourself,” said Tendou. “You’re very likable.”

“Bullshit.”

Tendou changed tactics. “Just because you’re a little rough around the edges doesn’t mean he wouldn’t like you. I like you.”

“You like everyone.”

“Semi-Semi likes you.”

“He tolerates me, at best.”

“Kenji-”

“Drop it, Tendou.” Shirabu stood, and Goshiki flew into a panic. If Shirabu found Goshiki eavesdropping, he would be furious. He would never speak to him again, and he’d certainly never let him buy another private dance. To Goshiki’s relief, Shirabu didn’t approach the door. He just stood there with his hands tucked in the pockets of an oversized coat. “You should be looking out for your new friend. Not setting him up for disappointment.”

“You undervalue yourself,” said Tendou. “And Tsutomu, too. He’s not so shallow that he’d be turned off by your attitude. He’s a good kid. You should give him a chance.”

“I said drop it.” Shirabu took a step, and Goshiki acted before he could be caught.

“Tendou-san?” called Goshiki, as if he’d just arrived during his search for Tendou. He pushed the door halfway open, heart beating madly in his chest, and hoped they didn’t notice how badly he was blushing. “Are you out here?”

“Tsutomu! Now it’s a party. Get over here.” He looked at Goshiki upside down over the back of the bench, grinning.

“Semi-san said this was where to find you,” said Goshiki. He slid a quick glance to the side. Shirabu wasn’t looking at him. “I’m going home. I wanted to say goodbye.”

Tendou hopped off the bench and loped over, wrapping Goshiki in a long-armed embrace. 

“You’re so precious,” said Tendou. “Isn’t he precious, Kenji-kun?”

Shirabu didn’t answer. He didn’t even look at them.

“Have a safe walk back to campus,” said Tendou. “Watch out for strangers and drunk drivers.”

“Right!” said Goshiki. He barely registered what Tendou said. He looked to Shirabu and said, more quietly, “Goodbye, Shirabu-san. I hope you have a good night.”

Shirabu’s eyes landed on him for only a second. “Thanks.”

“You can go straight out to the main street that way,” said Tendou, pointing. “It looks creepy because it’s dark, but Wakatoshi keeps this whole alley cleaned up. You’ll be alright.”

“Sure! Thank you, Tendou-san.”

“I’ll see ya soon, right?”

“Right!”

Goshiki spared one last glance for Shirabu and went in the direction Tendou had indicated. It was too dark for him to be comfortable, but Tendou said it was okay, so he forged ahead anyway. After a few minutes of inky shadows, he emerged onto the brightly lit street that cut back in front of Plumage. He looked over his shoulder, but he’d taken a corner on his way, and he couldn’t see Tendou or Shirabu anymore.

He started back toward campus, choosing crosswalks and taking turns on autopilot. His mind was still at the club, and with the things Shirabu had said.

Goshiki didn’t like admitting it, but at least part of those things had been true. Goshiki didn’t know much about Shirabu. 

He liked him anyway, but Shirabu seemed to have a hard time believing that. He thought Goshiki was only interested in him on a physical level, because he was attractive. 

It wasn’t true, and Goshiki would find a way to prove it.

  
  
  
  
  
Goshiki had told himself two weeks before that he wouldn’t go to the club more than once per week. Anything more than that would seem desperate, and he didn’t want to give anyone the wrong impression.

He broke that rule the following day, when he paid the cover charge at the front and entered the now-familiar club. 

When he’d left his dorm, he knew he’d been breaking his own rule, but he’d decided it didn’t count. He wasn’t there to hang out at the bar, or watch the stage, or buy a dance. He was there for one thing only, and he could leave when it was done.

It was Friday night, so Semi wasn’t at the bar. He was on the stage instead, dressed in an immodest strap of leather and lace-up boots. Ushijima had taken his place as bartender, but that didn’t matter. Goshiki wasn’t there to drink.

He didn’t even sit down as he entered. He identified the dancers on the stage and, when he didn’t find what he was looking for, scanned the floor instead. Several dancers were scattered amid the heavy crowd, making conversation or selling lapdances. Shirabu was among them, dancing for a man who was shorter and wider than Goshiki. The man kept his hands at his sides, pointedly away from Shirabu, who danced in his lap without making any actual contact. 

Goshiki waited impatiently, nerves quivering, until the song ended. Another swelled to take its place, paired with an announcement from the DJ that Goshiki didn’t hear. His focus was narrow, and when Shirabu tucked the man’s money into his stocking and stepped away from him, Goshiki rushed forward to intercept him. “Shirabu-san!”

Shirabu’s glare was immediate, slicing to the bone. When he recognized Goshiki, the heat of it faded.

“I’m sorry,” said Goshiki. He’d apologized for the exact same thing more than once, and still he was making the same mistake. Shirabu must have thought he was an idiot. “I keep forgetting. Raven. I’ll only call you Raven. I’m-”

“It’s fine.” Shirabu combed his fingers through his hair, as if straightening it out. There was no need. It was neat and unruffled, as if he hadn’t been dancing since the doors of Plumage opened two hours before. “It’s Friday. Private dances are full price. No two-for-one specials today.”

Goshiki blinked. Of course Shirabu thought he was there for a dance. That was a logical conclusion, considering it’s what Goshiki had asked for during his past two visits. “That’s not what I… Could I talk to you for a minute? I won’t be long, I swear. I know you’re busy.”

Shirabu held up his wrist, as if checking the time, but he wasn’t wearing a watch. “You have thirty seconds.”

The pressure made Goshiki’s mind go completely blank. He just stared, trying to remember the words he’d practiced on the way there.

“Twenty seconds.”

“I was wondering if you would maybe want to have dinner with me?” Goshiki blurted it out in a panic, afraid Shirabu would walk away if the allotted time fizzled out. “Not tonight, obviously, because you’re here and because you guys all go out together afterward. And because it will be really late and I have early practice. But maybe a different day? Like, on one of your days off, if you don’t have other plans? Or maybe before you have to be here for work, since the club doesn’t open until late. I have practice sometimes though but there are a couple days next week when it’s early practice instead so I was thinking if you wanted to, we could go somewhere. If you want.”

Shirabu stared at him for much longer than twenty seconds, absorbing that block of monologue. His face didn’t change. It rarely ever changed, so it was impossible for Goshiki to tell what he was thinking. He was creeping up on the edge of a nervous breakdown when Shirabu said, “Why?”

“Umm… what do you mean?”

“Why would you want to see me away from here?” asked Shirabu. He gestured at his near nudity. “I don’t dress like this anywhere else. I won’t jump into bed with you, for money or for free.”

“That’s not what I- I just- I just want to spend time with you,” said Goshiki. He blushed so hard that the tips of his ears burned. “You… you seem cool. I want to get to know you.”

Shirabu’s stare was flat. “Did Tendou tell you to do this?”

“No! He didn’t. I didn’t tell him I was coming.”

Shirabu studied him for another minute. The scrutiny made Goshiki fidget.

Finally, Shirabu said, “Come buy another dance from me next week and we’ll talk about it.”

It wasn’t a yes, but more importantly, it wasn’t a no.

“Okay! Yes!” said Goshiki. He knew he was too loud, but the worst of his volume got lost in the music. “Next week. I’ll do that.”

“I’ll be here.” Shirabu slipped past, probably to find another customer to dance for.

Goshiki watched him go with a spark of optimism. He waved to Semi, who’d just stepped off the stage, and headed for the door. He’d spent a 2000 yen cover charge for five minutes of conversation, but it was worth it. He would’ve paid it again, and more.

Shirabu hadn’t agreed to a date, but he did want to see Goshiki again. Maybe after they talked next week, he would agree to go out. Maybe he would decide he liked Goshiki, too. 

It was a longshot, thinking that someone like Shirabu could like him, but Goshiki made a habit of hoping for the best.


	5. Chapter 5

Goshiki went to the club the following week to buy his dance from Shirabu, as he’d been instructed. It progressed much the same as the last one, considering there was no actual dancing. Shirabu started the music, stretched out on the couch, and answered Goshiki’s unending stream of questions. He’d prepared more this time, ranging from Shirabu’s favorite foods to his favorite cities and his favorite colors. When it was over, Goshiki asked about dinner, and again Shirabu told him to come back next week.

It wasn’t what Goshiki wanted to hear, but it was progress. He didn’t mind moving slow, if that’s what it took. He would have waited much longer than a week for Shirabu. 

The following week was a mirror image, as was the one after. Goshiki bought a dance, talked with Shirabu, and was told to return the following Thursday. Goshiki agreed every time, because he would have agreed with anything Shirabu told him to do.

He just had to wait. If Shirabu wanted to spend extra time getting to know him before he was willing to go on a date, Goshiki was fine with it. He wanted Shirabu to be comfortable. Goshiki was willing to do whatever he needed to do. 

Even if that included showing up to the club for four weeks in a row to buy two songs’ worth of conversation.

At ten o’clock on the fourth consecutive Thursday, Goshiki sat at the bar with a freshly mixed mojito. Semi had ran out of gin a couple weeks before and had made a mojito instead. It had quickly become Goshiki’s new favorite, and he hadn’t ordered a gin and tonic since.

“So I dropped, and the silk was supposed to catch me, you know?” said Tendou, waving his hands as he talked. “But I guess I moved wrong or something, I don’t know. When I dropped I literally dropped. If I’d just hit the floor it would’ve been okay but I was over this stack of chairs and I just…” He smacked his hands together. “ _Crashed_.”

It was the story of how Tendou had gotten his brilliantly black eye. It looked painful.

Goshiki had learned that Tendou’s day job was also dancing, but a different kind. He was an aerial dancer at a performing arts theater. Semi had showed Goshiki a video the week before. It was no surprise to Goshiki that Tendou was really good at it.

“Fucking reckless,” muttered Semi, as he slid a beer across the counter to a customer. “Just because you’ve done it for years doesn’t mean you can’t mess up. You should use a fucking net.”

“That’s for amateurs,” said Tendou, waving him off. “But it’s good to know that you worry about me, Semi-Semi.”

Semi rolled his eyes and went to make another drink.

“So,” said Tendou, swiveling toward Goshiki. It was impossible to look away from his black eye. “How was your week?”

Goshiki told him about it, just as he’d done every week for the past month. It was nice, having this sort of routine, and these sorts of friends. Plumage was his second favorite place in the city. The first was the volleyball court, but that would always be his number one.

When Goshiki had wrapped up the retelling, and Semi had brought him another mojito, Shirabu appeared at Goshiki’s shoulder. 

“You ready for your dance?” 

His voice had remained as flat as ever over the past few weeks, but it never failed to give Goshiki a warm rush. “Yes! Whenever you are.”

Semi gave them a look, but turned back to the drink he was pouring.

“Give me one minute,” said Shirabu. He slipped around to the side of the counter, raised the hinged wooden slat that kept out the customers, and stepped behind the bar. This was a common occurrence, too. The dancers still weren’t allowed to drink during their shifts, but Shirabu didn’t seem to care. He snagged a clean glass, leaned across Semi to reach for the whiskey, and was shoved a hard step back.

That was new.

“You can’t drink while you’re working,” snapped Semi. “How many fucking times do you need to be told?”

Usually Semi made a disapproving comment under his breath and let Shirabu do whatever he wanted. This was very different, and it put Goshiki on edge. Judging from the way Tendou sat up out of his slouch, he felt the same way.

“It doesn’t matter how many times I’m told,” said Shirabu, unmoving. “It’s a stupid rule.”

“Then take it up with Wakatoshi,” said Semi. “Unless he says otherwise, you’re not drinking here.”

“Do you intend to stop me, Semi-san?”

“Yeah, I do.”

The tension was suffocating. Goshiki gripped his glass more tightly, unable to look away from the argument.

“Eita?” said Tendou, more subdued than usual. “Maybe the two of you should talk about this later.” He glanced toward the other customers at the bar, who’d zeroed in on Semi and Shirabu. It would have been impossible not to notice them.

“He’s right,” said Shirabu. “Let’s talk about it later.” He tried to step past Semi again, toward the liquor lining the wall. 

Semi’s eyes flashed, more sharply than Goshiki had ever seen them. Semi slapped the glass out of Shirabu’s hand and it shattered on the floor, louder than the music thrumming through the overhead speakers. 

Goshiki had never been afraid of Semi, but the fierceness of that glare and the quick flash of teeth had Goshiki shrinking back from the counter.

Shirabu wasn’t as easily intimidated. His eyes went narrow, hands curling into fists at his sides. “You didn’t care until tonight, Semi-san. Kawanishi was back here twenty minutes ago for the same thing and you didn’t stop him. Do you have a problem with me?”

“Of course I have a problem with you.” Semi’s voice was as sharp as the shards of glass on the floor. “You’ve been such a fucking dick lately.”

“I haven’t done anything to you.”

“Not to me.” Semi’s glare slipped sideways to burn into Goshiki, who stopped breathing.

Shirabu followed his glance, and the cut of his stare was just as lethal.

“Don’t fucking look at him like that,” said Semi. “He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. I know what you’ve been doing, leading him along like he only exists to give you easy money.”

Dread lurched in Goshiki’s gut. He didn’t want them to argue. Not about him, not about _this_. “Semi-san,” he said. “Shirabu-san isn’t-”

“And he doesn’t even know you’re doing it,” said Semi, ignoring him. “This isn’t like talking your way into extra tips from some rich asshole. You’re taking advantage of him and you need to fucking _stop_.”

“I’m not taking advantage of anyone.” There was heat behind Shirabu’s voice, emotion leaking into his usually passive face. Goshiki would have been pleased to see it, if that emotion hadn’t been sheer anger. “I’m doing my job, Semi-san, the same way you do yours. It’s my job to dance for money. It’s my job to make people want to come back again. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Telling someone you’ll go out with them if they come back one more time, and then one more time, and then one more fucking time, isn’t your job.” Semi slapped a hand against the counter, probably so he wouldn’t slap Shirabu instead. “You’re fucking using him.”

Goshiki wanted to crawl under the bar and never come out again.

“What do you care?” The words were so fierce that they were nearly a snarl. “It has nothing to do with you. Mind your own business, Semi-san.”

“Tsutomu is our friend. That makes it my business. Tell him you don’t want to go out with him and stop fucking around. I’m sick of it.”

Shirabu was prepared to snap back. His face was flushed, his fists were clenched, and his mouth was already open with whatever cutting thing he planned to say next.

But a low voice spoke before Shirabu could.

“What is happening here?”

Goshiki whipped his head around to find Ushijima at the corner of the bar, arms folded, a stare of hardened steel fixed on Semi and Shirabu. 

The anger vanished from Shirabu’s face immediately. Semi’s lingered in the cut of his scowl.

“I apologize, Ushijima-san,” said Shirabu, dipping into a quick bow. “I did not mean to cause to a disturbance.”

“Is there a problem?”

Shirabu darted a quick look at Semi, who glared back.

“No,” said Semi after a few tense seconds. “No problem. I dropped a glass. I’ll clean it up. Watch where you step, Kenjirou.”

Shirabu took that as his cue to go. He tiptoed around the broken glass and ducked beneath the divider, reemerging on the other side with an illusion of perfect composure. The only indication of the fight was the lingering color on his face. He stomped past Tendou and Goshiki without looking at either of them.

“Shirabu-san?” said Goshiki, calling after him.

Shirabu didn’t look back, and Goshiki wanted to wither away.

He wanted to defend Shirabu. Over the past few weeks, Shirabu had been nice to him. As nice as Shirabu could be, anyway. He hadn’t been rude, and hadn’t given any indication that Goshiki had gotten on his nerves. Shirabu had talked with him in the private room about all sorts of things. He’d seemed to be content with the time they spent together, and Goshiki thought they were making progress.

But maybe Shirabu only seemed content because he was getting paid. 

Maybe he only wanted Goshiki there for extra money, not because he enjoyed his company.

Maybe Semi was right, and Goshiki had just been too naïve to see it.

Semi grabbed a broom and swept the broken glass into a corner. Ushijima stepped behind the bar and spoke to the customers quietly. Maybe he was reassuring them that nothing was going on, or asking them what had really happened. Goshiki didn’t know, and he didn’t care enough to try and listen in.

He slid out of his chair and just stood there, his thoughts twisted into self-deprecating chaos. Of course Shirabu didn’t really want to spend time with him. He was only humoring Goshiki, because as he’d said to Semi, it was his job. He played nice with the customers to get money. That was it. Goshiki had known that already, but he’d thought… he’d _hoped_ … that maybe Shirabu would look at him differently.

“Tsutomu?” Tendou hopped down after him. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” said Goshiki. He spoke quietly, because he didn’t want anyone else to hear the lie. “I’m going to leave.”

Tendou looked over his shoulder at Semi, who seemed to shrink in Ushijima’s presence, and then back to Goshiki. “Don’t go. Stay with us for a while. It’s still early.”

Goshiki shook his head. “I don’t want to stay. I’m sorry, Tendou-san.”

Tendou looked back at Semi again. “That’s okay. Let’s go get dinner or something. My treat.”

Goshiki wondered if Tendou had a motive for being nice to him, too. Maybe everyone in the club was in on it, pretending to like Goshiki so he would keep coming back and spending his money there. It was working. He’d given Plumage a lot of money over the past month.

“No thank you, Tendou-san.”

“C’mon, Tsutomu, just-”

“I want to go home. I’m sorry.” Goshiki started toward the door without looking at him, without looking at anyone. The low rumble of Ushijima’s voice faded as Goshiki crossed the club, and it vanished completely when he stepped outside. 

He stood on the sidewalk for a while, staring blankly across the street, the headlights of passing cars blurring by in his vision. 

Naïve. That was the right word for all of this. Goshiki had been so naïve, thinking he had a chance with Shirabu, thinking that he really belonged at Plumage… or anywhere, for that matter. Of course he did well on the volleyball court, and his teammates encouraged him, but they were likely just being nice for their own benefit, too. He was a good player and they needed him. If he wasn’t good at volleyball, they wouldn’t care. If he didn’t give Shirabu money, he wouldn’t care. If he didn’t keep funding the club through cover charges and overpriced drinks, no one there would care, either.

Goshiki stared sightlessly ahead and realized just how stupid he’d been.

  
  
  
  
  
The following week wasn’t kind to Goshiki.

Practice was brutal, and Goshiki hadn’t performed so badly on the court since he’d been in high school. The coach threatened to pull him from his starting position, probably hoping that would give him motivation to do better. Instead it made Goshiki so nervous that he got even worse. He ran so many punishment laps that his legs ached and kept him awake at night.

He went to his classes, but he hardly knew what was being taught. There was an anatomy exam on Tuesday, and although Goshiki had spent hours studying the night before, he remembered absolutely nothing when he tried to fill in the answers. He knew before he’d even finished the first page of the exam that he’d failed it. He would have an opportunity for a make up exam in two weeks, but he didn’t think he’d do any better on that one.

Worst of all, he had nothing to look forward to at the end of the week, because he was never going back to Plumage. He’d decided that five minutes after he’d walked out of the club last Thursday. It may have been a hasty decision, but Goshiki would rather be hasty than naïve. He wouldn’t let himself be naïve ever again. It hurt too badly.

Tendou sent him messages, at least once per day, sometimes more. They were random snippets of conversation, at first. When a couple of days passed and Goshiki didn’t respond, they became requests instead, repeated pleas for Goshiki to message back. 

He wanted to, but he didn’t. He still had a gnawing, ugly suspicion that Tendou had been using him too, just like Shirabu. Goshiki didn’t want to think that. He’d liked Tendou; he still did. He wanted to be friends with him.

But he didn’t want to make a stupid mistake again, either.

So he ignored the messages and struggled through one of the most miserable weeks of his life, because he didn’t know what else he was supposed to do.

Practice on Thursday was less terrible, but only because the coach cut it short. He told everyone to get a good night’s rest to start fresh tomorrow. He was probably so exasperated by Goshiki’s failure – and the deteriorating impact it had on the rest of the team – that he couldn’t deal with them any longer. 

Goshiki dragged back to his dorm, weighed down by guilt. They had a game next weekend. If he couldn’t get himself together they would lose for sure, and it would be all his fault. An ace was supposed to lead his team to victory, not hold them back with his incompetence.

He would get booted off the team, and then he’d have nothing left.

He collapsed on his single bed, facedown in his pillow. He knew he was taking the Shirabu situation too hard. It wasn’t as if there had been anything between them. Goshiki had been under no illusions that Shirabu liked him. He’d just thrived on the possibility that someday he might, that someday Goshiki could win him over.

Of course Shirabu had seen that. He’d seen it, and taken advantage of it.

Goshiki was angry with himself for letting it happen, and even angrier that he couldn’t put it aside and move on. It was stupid to spend so much time obsessing over it. He had other things to focus on. He had a life.

A life that had been better when Plumage had been a consistent staple of his routine.

Someday Goshiki would get over this, and he would look back and be disappointed in himself for wallowing in his misery.

Someday, but that day was not today.

Goshiki’s cellphone rang. He thought of ignoring it, just to spare the effort of rolling over to get it out of his pocket. But it might be his mom, and if he ignored her calls, she would get worried and come by the university to check on him. He knew that from firsthand experience, and it wasn’t something he wanted to repeat. He flailed onto his back and checked his phone screen, but it wasn’t his mom.

Goshiki’s thumb hovered, prepared to decline the call, but he hesitated.

He shouldn’t answer. He knew he shouldn’t.

“Hello?” said Goshiki, slapping a hand over his face even as he said it.

“Tsutomu!” It was nearly a shout. “You really are alive! I was worried. I checked the obituaries this morning. Semi said it was dumb but I did it anyway.”

Tendou clearly hadn’t changed during Goshiki’s week-long absence.

“Are you okay?” said Tendou, when he didn’t get a response. “I sent you a bunch of texts.”

“Yeah, I got them,” said Goshiki. He dropped his arm to the side and stared up at the ceiling. If his guilt from practice wasn’t bad enough, the guilt of ignoring Tendou was like a dead weight. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. What’ve you been doing?”

“Nothing.” He should’ve left it at that. There was no reason to say anything else. 

He tried to keep his mouth shut, but that had never been one of Goshiki’s strengths.

“I failed my anatomy exam,” said Goshiki. He grabbed his pillow and slapped it over his face, but tossed it away again when he realized he couldn’t talk that way. “And I’ve been so bad in volleyball practice this week. Coach made me run extra laps every day, and I’ve barely been able to get any good serves in, and I think he’s going to kick me off the team and I’ll lose my scholarship and have to quit school and live on the street and-”

“Hey, okay, take a breath,” said Tendou, cutting him off. “You’re okay. You won’t get kicked off the team. Everybody has an off day… or week… every now and then. You’re a great player. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be the ace. They need you.”

“Not like this,” Goshiki mumbled. “I’m just making the team worse.”

Tendou sighed. “Is all this because of the Shirabu situation?”

“…no.”

“Tsutomu-”

“It’s not! It was just a bad week. It had nothing to do with him. I haven’t even been thinking about him.”

It was the biggest lie Goshiki had ever told, and Tendou must have known that. Goshiki had been informed many times that he was a bad liar.

“He and Semi were just mad at each other,” said Tendou. He kept his voice low, gentle. It was much different than the Tendou that Goshiki had first met at Plumage. “Shirabu apologized to him a few days ago. Technically Semi apologized first, because he’s all soft deep down, but… they made up.”

Goshiki didn’t say anything. None of that affected his current circumstances.

“You should come over tonight,” said Tendou. “Hang out for a little bit. Get your mind off the bad stuff.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“C’mon, Tsutomu. I miss you. I haven’t talked to you in _ages_. Semi wants to see you, too. He feels bad about what happened. Come let him apologize.”

“I don’t think I should.” 

Tendou hesitated, then said, “Shirabu asked if you were coming by. He wants to talk to you, too.”

Goshiki’s stomach gave a nervous lurch. He shook the feeling away and said, “He only wants to make sure I’ll keep coming back. He just wants my money, like Semi-san said.”

“You should trust yourself more than that,” said Tendou. Goshiki didn’t know what he meant until he added, “You’re too smart to like someone who’s just going to use you like that.”

“No, I’m not. I’m too naïve.” It was a word he’d used to berate himself all week, over and over in a constant mental loop. 

“Just stop by for a few minutes,” said Tendou. “Please. You don’t have to buy a dance or anything else from Shirabu. If he wants to talk to you, he can do it on his own time. If you get here and wanna leave, I’ll take you out somewhere. Just come see us, alright? It’s lonely without you.”

Goshiki wanted to believe him. He really, really did. “I don’t know…”

“Tsutomu, come on. Just-”

There was a burst of static from the other end, paired with snapping voices and a shuffling that sounded like the phone was being thrown around. When it faded, the voice on the other end wasn’t Tendou.

“Listen, kid. You have to come down here.” It was Semi. “Tendou won’t shut up about it. He’s been worried all week that you – stop it, Satori – that you don’t want to be his friend anymore. It’s driving me fucking crazy. Please get down here. For my sanity.”

Tendou’s complaints were a constant background noise.

Despite the terrible week, and despite Goshiki’s doubts, he smiled. He couldn’t help it. Just talking to the two of them made him feel better than he had in days. 

Maybe they were using him. Maybe it was a bad idea to go back.

Maybe, but Goshiki couldn’t bear the thought of staying away.

“Okay,” he said. The single word gave him a cool wash of relief. “Okay, I’ll be there in a little while.”

“Thank god. Alright, we’ll see you then.”

“He’s coming?” Tendou’s raised voice was the last thing Goshiki heard before the call ended.

Goshiki rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in his pillow. He searched for the rational part of himself, the part that would explain to him why this was such a bad idea. He knew it was there, but it remained silent. 

He took a few minutes to relax, because he was still physically and emotionally exhausted from the past few days. He accidentally dozed off, shook himself awake, and rolled off the bed to change clothes. 

His legs were still weak from so much running, and he was definitely taking the train this time.

  
  
  
  
  
Goshiki arrived at the club around the same time as usual. Tendou had called early, as if he’d been planning around Goshiki’s schedule. 

Goshiki stood out front for a while, staring at the building and questioning his life choices, before he went inside. He passed over the cover charge and his identification, just like he did every time he’d visited. 

The bored girl at the window glanced at his identification, started counting the money, and did a double take. She squinted at the name on his ID, as if confirming. “You’re Tsutomu?” she asked.

Goshiki tried not to panic. What if she thought he didn’t look like the picture? What if she thought he was trying to use a fake card to lie his way inside? If she called the police and they thought he was impersonating someone else, they might-

“There’s no charge,” she said, without waiting for an answer. She passed back the ID and his money. “Go on in.”

Goshiki took it back, confused. “Why?”

“It’s already been paid.”

That didn’t lessen his confusion. “By who?”

“Chimera.”

It took Goshiki a second too long to recognize Tendou’s alias. “…oh. Okay. Thank you.” He gave the girl one more glance, to make sure she wouldn’t change her mind, and stepped through to enter the club.

Everything was the same as usual. It was nostalgic, which was ridiculous. Goshiki always came one night every week. He hadn’t missed any time here. If nothing had happened last Thursday, he would’ve been there at the exact same time anyway. 

He supposed it felt different because he’d been completely convinced that he would never see it again.

He didn’t let himself check which dancers were on stage. He made a beeline for the bar, spying Tendou at his usual seat at the end. He didn’t make it there before Tendou caught sight of him, too. Tendou flew out of his chair and intercepted him, long arms looping around Goshiki and squeezing him into a crushing embrace. “I’m so glad you’re here,” said Tendou. “I thought I’d never see that adorable face ever again.”

Goshiki tried to wriggle free, but Tendou was stronger than he looked. “I was here last week,” he said, the words muffled into Tendou’s shoulder.

“Yeah, but you left like you were never coming back. Don’t abandon me like that again, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki continued to struggle, and Semi’s voice snapped from across the bar.

“Tendou, let go of him! You’re in public.”

“Stop killing my mood, Semi-Semi.” Tendou said it so quietly that there was no way Semi could have heard. He let go of Goshiki anyway, stepping back to study him with a frown. “You look like you haven’t slept in a solid week.”

“I’ve slept.” He had, though it hadn’t been much.

Tendou sighed. “Sure you have. Come on, sit down and tell me your troubles.”

Goshiki followed him to the bar and climbed into his usual seat. He didn’t want to talk about the week he’d had, because simply the thought of it stoked his anxiety, but it was impossible to keep it to himself when Tendou was quietly waiting for him to speak. 

Tendou was easy to talk to. About this, or anything else.

Goshiki had just gotten to an explanation of practice a few hours ago, when he’d spiked two balls in a row directly into the net, when Semi approached with a mojito. Goshiki reached for his wallet, but Semi waved him off. 

“Oh the house,” said Semi, pushing it toward him. “You can get as many as you want.” 

Goshiki pressed the glass between his palms, blinking up at Semi. “Umm… thank you.”

Semi nodded, turned away, then spun back around and draped his elbows on the edge of the counter. “Hey, I’m sorry about last week. I shouldn’t have called Shirabu out like that, in front of you. I should’ve taken him aside and talked to him in private. I wasn’t thinking. My temper got the best of me. Sorry, Tsutomu.”

The apology made Goshiki feel warm. “That’s okay, Semi-san. Please don’t worry about it.”

Semi offered him a half-smile, glanced at Tendou, then walked away to return to his bartending duties. 

“I’m surprised he yelled at Shirabu like that. It was out of nowhere.” Tendou reclined back against the bar to watch the stage. “He has problems with his temper back in the day, but he’s calmed down a lot in his old age. He hasn’t lost his shit like that for at least a year.”

Semi was 23. Goshiki wasn’t sure how that could be considered ‘old age’. 

“I kinda like when he gets spicy, though,” said Tendou, tilting his head back to watch Semi. “Just maybe not when he’s at work because he could’ve gotten fired for that.”

Goshiki sank a little in his chair.

“C’mon, it wasn’t your fault at all,” said Tendou, reading his mood. “You didn’t do anything wrong. You’ve probably never done anything wrong in your life. You’re too pure.”

None of that was true, but Goshiki didn’t say it. Tendou would just argue with him.

Goshiki was sitting with his back to stage, so he didn’t notice when someone else approached the bar. 

“Ah, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou. “You look delicious this evening.”

Goshiki had been reaching for his drink but he sat it down slowly, tension tightening his shoulders. 

Shirabu didn’t respond to Tendou. He gave no indication that he’d heard at all. “Goshiki-kun?”

Shirabu had only ever called him Tsutomu, and he’d only said it once. Otherwise he’d avoided directly addressing him. 

Goshiki wondered if it would be in his best interest to pretend Shirabu wasn’t there. He would go away, and Goshiki wouldn’t have to deal with this. 

Slowly he turned in his seat, clasping his hands in his lap as he faced Shirabu. 

Shirabu studied him, his face revealing nothing. “Come with me.”

“Where?”

“To the private rooms. I’ll give you a dance.”

The suggestion gave Goshiki a twinge of emotional pain. “That’s okay, I don’t think I-”

“Please.”

A single word shouldn’t have the power to knock the breath from Goshiki’s lungs, but this one did. He’d never expected to hear it in Shirabu’s voice, not directed at himself.

He shouldn’t go. He knew he shouldn’t. The fiasco from the week before had convinced him that indulging this fantasy was bad for him. He started to decline again, but Tendou nudged him.

“Go on, Tsutomu,” he said quietly. 

Goshiki glanced between the two of them, torn. He checked over his shoulder, seeking Semi, but he was too busy mixing drinks to notice Goshiki’s situation.

“Okay,” he finally said. He slid out of his chair and left his drink on the counter as he followed Shirabu across the club. He glanced at the dancers on stage, for an excuse to look away from Shirabu’s bare back, and found Oohira at center stage, his g-string stuffed full of yen.

They reached the curtain and Shirabu pulled it back, waiting for Goshiki to step through first. Goshiki walked to room 10 on instinct, because it was the one Shirabu always used, but it must have been occupied. Shirabu gestured toward room 8 instead. Goshiki entered and stood awkwardly just past the threshold as Shirabu closed the door behind them. This room was identical to 10. If Goshiki hadn’t seen the number on the door, he wouldn’t have known it was different.

Shirabu watched him, waiting for him to sit down, but Goshiki didn’t move.

“I didn’t bring enough money for a dance, Shirabu-san,” said Goshiki, belatedly realizing that he hadn’t stopped by the ATM on his way. He hadn’t intended to be in a private room tonight. “I’m sorry. I’ll just-”

“Sit down,” said Shirabu, unwavering. 

“But I-”

“This one’s free.”

Goshiki didn’t understand what Shirabu was doing, but his stare left no room for argument. Slowly, Goshiki crossed the room and dropped into the middle of the leather couch. He expected Shirabu to start the music and join him, as he’d done every Thursday for the past month. 

Instead, Shirabu bypassed the speakers entirely. He straddled Goshiki to sit in his lap, his folded legs warm against Goshiki’s outer thighs. Shirabu wore only a small pair of sequined shorts. Goshiki had never seen them before, but he did recognize the black lace peeking over Shirabu’s left hipbone. 

“You forgot the music,” said Goshiki. The room wasn’t silent. The beat of the song playing on the main stage bled through the walls. Still, it was quiet enough that his voice sounded far too loud. 

“No, I didn’t.”

“If you don’t play it, how will you know when the dance is over?”

“It’s over when I say it’s over.” Shirabu sat back, his weight settling on Goshiki’s knees. His stare was tangible, pinning Goshiki in place. He didn’t say anything else, at first. The silence dragged on, and Goshiki didn’t know how to break it.

Eventually, Shirabu said, unprompted, “Before I worked here, I was in university.”

Goshiki blinked. “What?”

“I have a business degree,” continued Shirabu without explanation, “but I couldn’t find a job after I graduated. I took dance lessons when I was younger. Ballet, mostly, but I tried a lot of different styles over the years. I saw a job posting for Plumage and I met the qualifications. When I realized I could make more money dancing than working an office job, I decided to give it a try. It was never what I wanted, but I don’t regret it, so far.”

Goshiki barely managed to speak past his bewilderment. “Why are you telling me this?”

“You asked,” said Shirabu. “A while back. I didn’t answer.”

Goshiki remembered that. Shirabu had said he didn’t talk about his personal life with customers. Goshiki didn’t know why he’d changed his mind.

“I know you heard what Semi said.” Shirabu glanced to the side, idly tucking his bangs out of his face. “About how I was leading you on.”

Goshiki almost responded to that, but bit back the words. He wasn’t sure what to say. His impulse was to tell Shirabu it was okay, because it should have been. Like Shirabu had said, he was only doing his job. He’d done nothing wrong. Goshiki was the one who’d been foolish enough to think this was something that it wasn’t. 

He should have said it was okay, but he couldn’t.

“That wasn’t my intention,” said Shirabu. He shifted in Goshiki’s lap, just slightly. “But I understand why Semi believed it was.”

Goshiki pressed his hands against the couch cushion and kept quiet.

“This will be the last dance you get from me here,” said Shirabu, still staring off to the side. “I don’t want any further misunderstandings.”

Goshiki shouldn’t have been disappointed. He’d already decided he wasn’t coming back. This wasn’t any worse, and at least Shirabu was concerned about him, at least a little. Otherwise he wouldn’t have bothered with this conversation. 

Goshiki shouldn’t have been disappointed, but he was.

“Okay,” he said. “Sorry if I caused any trouble.”

Shirabu looked at him then, his eyes sharp. He didn’t say what was on his mind, and it was impossible to tell. His face was as empty as ever.

Goshiki expected Shirabu to get up. He would either turn on the music and give Goshiki one final dance, or leave the room and cut their acquaintance off for good. Goshiki was prepared for either option, but Shirabu did neither of them.

He remained right where he was, still watching Goshiki.

“You’re not my customer anymore,” said Shirabu. He sat up on his knees a little, giving himself more height. 

“Yeah, you said that.” Goshiki glanced to the side, but it seemed Shirabu wanted his full attention.

A finger hooked beneath Goshiki’s chin and tilted his face up. Shirabu hovered over him, so close that Goshiki forgot how to breathe.

“If you’re not my customer,” said Shirabu, his voice low, “then there aren’t any rules.”

“Shirabu-san? I don’t…” Goshiki planned to finish that sentence, but didn’t quite make it.

Shirabu dipped closer and his lips touched Goshiki’s. It was barely there, but Goshiki’s nerve endings were immediately electric. 

Shirabu took Goshiki’s wrist, as he’d done several times before, and pressed Goshiki’s hand against his bare thigh, just beneath the sequins. He tucked a piece of Goshiki’s hair behind his ear, lingering, before moving close to kiss him again.

Goshiki was confused, but not too confused to kiss him back.

He tilted his head up further, seeking more of Shirabu’s mouth. It was soft against his own, and Shirabu’s lips slid against Goshiki’s as if they were a perfect fit. Shirabu settled lower on Goshiki’s lap, pressing against his mouth more firmly, slim fingers slipping through the back of Goshiki’s hair.

Goshiki tentatively pried his other hand away from the couch cushion and curled it around Shirabu’s hip. The sequins were rough against his palm, but Shirabu’s skin was smooth under his fingertips. His thumb brushed against that tiny peeking piece of lace, and Goshiki’s gut twisted. It was a pleasant feeling, and a subtle shiver trickled along Goshiki’s spine.

Shirabu’s teeth snagged Goshiki’s bottom lip. He bit down softly and smoothed it over with his tongue.

Heat surged to Goshiki’s groin, quickly enough to leave him reeling. He pulled back, blinking up at Shirabu in hazy uncertainty. 

“What are you doing?” he said. He voice was weaker than he would have liked.

“You know what I’m doing.”

“But… but why?”

Shirabu sat back, and the extra space between them cleared Goshiki’s muddled thoughts. “I was told that you like me.”

“Well… yeah, of course I do, but I don’t… understand. Last week you said-”

“Last week I was angry at Semi,” said Shirabu. He was still so calm, a perfect balance to Goshiki’s fluster. “I would have said anything to justify my actions for the sake of winning the argument. I didn’t invite you here every week because of my job. I wanted to see you.”

The heat in Goshiki’s body relocated again, this time swelling in his chest. “Really?”

“I’ll take you out to dinner,” said Shirabu, glancing away, “if you’re still interested.”

Goshiki thought he may have been dreaming. This didn’t seem like something that could really happen. “Of course I am! I want to go to dinner, I just… If you wanted to see me, why didn’t you just go out with me?”

Shirabu’s mouth tilted into a frown. He bit his lip, just barely, before he spoke. “After we go out you may not want to see me anymore. I was delaying the inevitable.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to see you?”

Shirabu turned his head, staring off in the other direction instead. “I’m not a likeable person.”

Goshiki was reminded of the conversation he’d overheard between Tendou and Shirabu a while back, when Shirabu had said something similar. “That’s not true. I like you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“Sure I do!” Goshiki sat up a little straighter. “I know you played setter for your high school volleyball team. And that you took dance lessons when you were younger, and they must’ve been really good lessons, because you’re a great dancer. And I know that your favorite color is green, and your favorite food is shirasu, and you like-”

“Okay,” said Shirabu, cutting him short. “We’ll see how long it takes you to change your mind. Get out your phone and I’ll give you my number.”

Goshiki was about to get Shirabu’s number.

He fumbled for his pocket, realized Shirabu’s leg was pressed against him, and let his hand fall away. “You’re, umm… I can’t… get to it.”

Shirabu scooted back and went up on his knees. It put the front of his sequined shorts nearly at a perfect level with Goshiki’s face. Goshiki looked away as he fished out his phone, failing to fight the blush that warmed his cheeks. Shirabu settled back into place, and Goshiki could have sworn he saw the touch of a smile on Shirabu’s face. When he looked more closely, Shirabu was as expressionless as ever. 

Shirabu recited his number, and Goshiki clumsily saved it. 

“Text me tomorrow,” said Shirabu. He unfolded himself from Goshiki’s lap and stood. “We can go out Sunday. I don’t have work and you don’t have class.”

“Yes!” said Goshiki. He hopped to his feet as well. “Sunday! Sunday is perfect.”

“I have to be on stage soon,” said Shirabu. He stepped to the door and opened it, waiting for Goshiki to exit into the hall. “Are you staying?”

“Oh, umm… I might stay with Tendou for a while.”

“Good,” said Shirabu. “You can watch me dance. I added some new moves.”

Goshiki’s face went hot all over again. “Sure! If you want me to.”

Shirabu looked over his shoulder, and this time Goshiki was positive that there was a hint of a smirk dancing at the corner of his mouth.

They returned to the main area of the club, and Goshiki couldn’t keep the smile off of his face.


	6. Chapter 6

“Nice serve, Goshiki!”

Goshiki pumped a fist in the air as the ball slammed on the other side of the court, so close to the line that his teammates had guessed it was out. It was a valid assumption, considering how unpredictable his serves had been all week.

But it was a new day, and Goshiki’s slump was over.

“One more, one more!”

Goshiki caught the ball and bounced it against the floor, his focus zeroing in. It was only a practice match against his fellow teammates, so there were no high stakes but he didn’t need any extra motivation. Proving to himself and his team that he wasn’t useless was motivation enough.

He sent the serve sailing over the net, and the ball shot toward the exact same spot near the back line. This time the other players didn’t take any chances. The libero dove for it, barely getting a fist beneath the ball and flinging it overhead. The teams on both sides of the net burst into motion, and Goshiki felt like he belonged on the court again.

He knew why his playing had improved, just as he knew why it had been so terrible since last week. He shouldn’t have let the situation with Shirabu affect him as strongly as it did. It wasn’t healthy. Goshiki knew that, but knowing hadn’t stopped him from being miserable, and it didn’t stop him from happily floating along in an elated mood.

It was Saturday, so practice ran longer than usual. Typically Goshiki was exhausted at the end of a Saturday practice, and he should have been doubly tired considering the week he’d had. But he still had energy left when coach called them to an end, and if he hadn’t been so eager to cool down and check his phone, he would have ran a couple extra laps to burn it off. 

Goshiki crossed the gym and plopped down on the floor near a handful of his teammates. He straightened his legs and folded over to grab his toes, sinking into the stretch. His muscles were still strained from too much running that week, but he didn’t mind. It would only make him stronger.

“Good practice, Goshiki,” said Kindaichi, from the awkward angle of his own stretch.

“Thanks! You too!” Goshiki pushed up on his hands and shifted, extending one leg behind him and folding the other. He sighed in relief as he settled into a hip stretch. 

“Did something happen?” asked Kindaichi, still watching him. “You’ve been really upbeat the past couple of days.”

Goshiki should have said no. He should have made up some excuse about how he’d simply gotten himself together for the good of the team.

But he’d been dying to talk about it since Thursday, and if he was careful with his words, he didn’t think it would be a problem.

“I have a date,” he said, unable to hide his grin. “Tomorrow. For dinner.”

Kindaichi smiled back. “Congrats, man. With who?”

Goshiki wanted to tell him all about it, because he could have spent hours talking about Shirabu. Of all his teammates, he thought Kindaichi was the least likely to judge him. But they weren’t alone, and Goshiki wasn’t prepared to out himself to his entire team. “You don’t know them,” he said, dropping his head and sinking deeper into the stretch. “We met at a club.”

“Really?” said Kindaichi, surprised. “You don’t strike me as the club type.”

He wasn’t wrong. Before Goshiki had scraped up the courage to go to Plumage, he’d rarely ever been to a club. “I go sometimes. Not very often.”

“What’s their name?”

Goshiki glanced at him, not failing to pick up on the gender neutral wording. Did Kindaichi know? Was it obvious? Goshiki had never thought so. No one had ever accused him of liking men. Maybe Kindaichi just preferred to err on the side of political correctness. That didn’t mean it had anything to do with Goshiki. “Shirabu-san.”

“-san?”

Goshiki considered his words carefully. “I’m younger. Not by much, but… still.”

“Get it, Goshiki!” One of their other teammates, Koganegawa, wolf whistled from a few yards away. “Picking up older ladies! Didn’t know you had it in you!”

A couple of the others laughed along with him, and though it was all in good humor, the edges of Goshiki’s mood fell, just a little. He pushed himself off the floor and said, in an undertone, “I’m going to shower.”

Kindaichi nodded up at him. “Alright. Good luck tomorrow, with your date.”

“Thanks.” Goshiki broke away from the group, and didn’t turn back even when Koganegawa’s obnoxious questions followed him.

“What’s she look like? Do you have a picture? Are you going to bring her around and introduce us?”

Koganegawa didn’t mean anything by it. Goshiki knew that, and he wasn’t bothered. By that, anyway.

Of course they assumed the date was with a girl. Anyone would reasonably assume that, and if they’d thought otherwise, Goshiki would have faced a whole different set of issues. There was no reason to be disappointed, but Goshiki couldn’t help it.

He was thrilled about going out with Shirabu, and he wanted to tell everyone about it. Knowing that he couldn’t, not completely, dampened his mood.

That discontentment didn’t last long. He brightened again when he grabbed his gym bag and checked his cellphone.

He’d texted Shirabu the day before, as instructed. Shirabu had replied within a few minutes, asking about Goshiki’s preferred foods. He’d said he would be in touch the following day, and up until practice had started a few hours before, Goshiki had spent the morning staring at his phone.

Thirty minutes ago, Shirabu had finally messaged him.

_Is this acceptable?_

He’d attached a link to a restaurant. Goshiki had never heard of it, but it didn’t matter. He typed back an eager agreement and smiled to himself as he went to the locker room. Just before he stripped down for his shower, he received a reply.

_I’ll meet you there at 6 tomorrow._

Goshiki bounced on the balls of his feet and again considered returning to the gym to run a few laps. His energy reserves had suddenly tripled. But he didn’t want to be bombarded with Koganegawa’s questions again, so he tamped down his excitement, stuffed his phone in his bag, and went to the showers.

  
  
  
  
  
Sunday was perhaps the longest day of Goshiki’s life.

He woke with the dawn, even though he had no reason to get up early. There was no practice and no classes. If he could have slept until early evening, it would have been for the best. Then he wouldn’t have spent hour after hour preoccupied with his impending date.

He tried to get a start on his homework. A couple of papers had to be finished that week, and he needed to study for his anatomy make-up exam. He sat at his small desk for an hour, accomplished nothing, and went for a brief jog around campus instead. Jogging was easier than homework, so _brief_ quickly turned into _lengthy_. Two hours later he was back at his desk again, and his mind had cleared enough for him to make some progress. He felt good about it, and he checked the time, certain that it was creeping close to 6. 

It was barely noon, and Goshiki could have screamed.

He went to the café at the furthest end of campus, to maximize the time of his walk. He sat there for a while, memorizing the names of different muscle groups and sipping on coffee that he definitely did not need. He was back in his dorm by 2, and whiled away the next couple of hours playing games on his phone that didn’t require much thought or strategy. 

At 4 he went down the hall to the communal showers, struggled against his wet hair, and spent far too long staring into the void of his wardrobe. 

Goshiki had been on several dates in the past, but he’d never been so anxious about any of them. That was probably because they’d been with girls, and he’d only agreed out of a sense of obligation. This was the first date that was important, with someone who meant something to him. He needed to make a good impression. 

When he finally left the dorms, it was in slacks and a button-up; dark colors, because it felt more formal. He checked the address Shirabu had sent him and started walking. 

The restaurant was only twenty minutes from campus. Goshiki wondered if Shirabu lived nearby and had chosen it out of convenience. Maybe Goshiki would ask, because he was allowed to ask personal questions now, and maybe Shirabu would even answer.

When Goshiki turned the corner onto the correct block, he received a message:

_Good luck on your date, Tsutomu! Use protection._

Of course it was Tendou. Goshiki tucked his phone away, scrubbing a hand against the side of his face as if he could wipe away his blush. 

Goshiki had just started to wonder if he should text Shirabu to let him know he’d arrived when he caught sight of him in front of the building, standing with his back against the brick wall. Shirabu idly watched the passing pedestrians, hands tucked in the pockets of the long coat that was a touch too heavy for the mild weather. Goshiki realized it was only the second time he’d seen Shirabu in actual everyday clothes.

He looked just as good dressed as he did mostly nude.

“Hi, Shirabu-san!” said Goshiki, as he approached. 

Shirabu took him in with a sweep of hazel eyes before turning away to open the door of the restaurant. He waited wordlessly for Goshiki to enter before following.

They were seated at a table on the second level, near the railing that overlooked the lower floor. The place wasn’t so fancy that Goshiki was uncomfortable, but it was nicer than he’d expected. Instrumental music filtered from hidden speakers and lush ivy crawled along the nearby railing. Goshiki gawked at the interior long enough that their server came over before he’d even checked the menu.

“Give us another minute,” said Shirabu, without looking up. The server nodded and went to a different table instead. Shirabu peered at Goshiki over the edge of his menu and said, “We can go somewhere else, if you don’t like it here.”

“No! It’s fine.” Goshiki snatched up his menu and skimmed through the first page. “It’s nice. I’ve just never been here before.”

“I haven’t, either.” Shirabu glanced around, but with far less interest than Goshiki. “Semi recommended it. He said they have good seafood.”

Goshiki was surprised by that. He’d known Semi and Shirabu had apologized to one another, but he hadn’t known they were getting along well enough to trade restaurant recommendations. “Oh. I like seafood.”

“I know.”

Of course he knew. Goshiki had told him via text two days before.

“Right,” said Goshiki. He forced himself to focus as he perused the menu. If the server returned and he still didn’t know what to order, he would look like an idiot, and he definitely didn’t want Shirabu to think he was an idiot.

“Why are you nervous?” asked Shirabu.

Goshiki glanced up. Shirabu wasn’t even looking at him; his eyes were still stuck to his own menu. “I’m not nervous,” said Goshiki. 

One of Shirabu’s eyebrows rose. “Aren’t you?”

Goshiki opened his mouth to lie again, but faltered when Shirabu flicked a glance up at him. “Okay. I’m a little nervous.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” said Goshiki, although he did. He fiddled with the corner of his menu. 

“It’s just dinner,” said Shirabu. “It’s not a big deal.”

Maybe it wasn’t to him, but to Goshiki, it was a very big deal.

The server returned. Shirabu ordered first, which was fortunate. Goshiki needed that extra minute to decide what to get. When the server collected the menus and whisked away, Goshiki said, “Thank you for agreeing to come out with me, Shirabu-san.”

“I agreed because I wanted to. There’s no need to thank me for it.”

Goshiki smiled at that. Shirabu _wanted_ to be here. He said it like he meant it, and Goshiki believed him. Shirabu didn’t seem like the kind of person who would agree to something like this just to be nice. 

“How was your weekend, Shirabu-san?” asked Goshiki, sitting a little straighter.

Shirabu shrugged. He sat with his arms folded across his chest, watching the lobby below them. “The same as usual.”

“Did you do anything fun?”

“No. I went to work. That’s mostly it.”

Goshiki idly kicked his feet, searching for something else to say. “Tendou-san said the club was really busy last night.”

“It was. I was exhausted.”

Goshiki started to ask more – if Shirabu had spent a lot of time on the stage, and if he’d had a lot of private dances – but he didn’t know if it was appropriate. He went quiet again, trying to think of a better way to continue the conversation.

Somehow, it had been easier to talk to Shirabu when they’d been on the leather couch in the private room.

Shirabu sighed, and Goshiki almost panicked, afraid he was bored.

“You talk more than I do,” said Shirabu. “Tell me about your weekend instead.”

“I don’t… It’s not exciting, and I know I talk too much sometimes, so I don’t want to-”

“If you get on my nerves, I’ll tell you,” said Shirabu.

That may have sounded rude to someone else, but Goshiki was relieved. He scooted his chair closer to the table and talked about his practices from the past two days, and the game that was coming up the following weekend. He stuck to the good parts, avoiding any mention of the terrible week he’d had prior to Friday. It was sort of pathetic, and he didn’t want Shirabu to know how much he’d been affected by the incident at Plumage.

He talked until their food was served, and Shirabu didn’t stop him a single time.

Goshiki had feared the meal would be awkward, but it wasn’t. They traded brief conversation between bites, mostly about the quality of the food. Semi had been right; the seafood was delicious. 

“So are you and Semi-san friends?” asked Goshiki, when the thought crossed his mind.

Shirabu stared down at his food, considering. “I’m not sure.”

“Do you get along with him okay now?”

“Yes,” said Shirabu. He took a drink of his water. “Things at Plumage are easier if I do.”

“So you don’t actually like him?” asked Goshiki. “You just deal with him because it’s easier?”

Shirabu sat back to think about that. “I respect him. He’s a good dancer. Probably the best at Plumage. And I guess I don’t hate him as a person.”

That didn’t sound like much of a compliment, but Goshiki suspected it was as close as Shirabu could get.

When they finished eating and the server brought the check, Shirabu passed over his credit card before Goshiki could even reach for his wallet. 

“I don’t mind paying!” said Goshiki, as the server wandered away. “I have money.”

“I invited you,” said Shirabu. 

“This time, yeah, but I asked you out first.”

“Doesn’t matter. Don’t worry about it.”

Goshiki sat back in his chair. He wasn’t sure how to feel. He’d been prepared to pay for his meal, and Shirabu’s too, if he’d let him. 

This could be a good thing, though. If Shirabu was spending money on Goshiki, it meant he didn’t hate him.

“Thank you, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu didn’t respond. When the server brought his card back, he tucked it away and the two of them left the restaurant.

It was a little past seven. They hadn’t been there long, and to Goshiki, that time had felt even shorter. But he was fortunate that he’d gotten any time at all. Last week he’d been convinced that he would never see Shirabu again.

“Thank you for the meal,” said Goshiki. “And for coming out with me.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” Shirabu stared off down the street. “I live a few blocks from here. You can come over, if you want.”

Goshiki’s brain burst into white static.

That invitation was the last thing he’d expected. Goshiki had assumed their date would end after dinner, and if he was lucky, he might get another one in a week or two. It was a miracle that Shirabu wanted to spend more time with Goshiki, especially at his home, where they would be alone, and…

Goshiki blinked, forcing himself to focus. “Umm… sure, if that’s… If it’s okay.”

“Would I invite you if it wasn’t?”

That didn’t seem like the sort of question that needed a response, so Goshiki kept his mouth shut. Shirabu started walking, in the opposite direction from campus, and Goshiki fell into step beside him. Shirabu was as calm as ever, probably oblivious to Goshiki’s internalized meltdown.

This didn’t mean what Goshiki thought it meant. It couldn’t. 

Sure, Shirabu had danced at him for the club, and it had been the most erotic thing Goshiki had ever seen. But that was a month ago, and he’d only done it because Goshiki had paid him. It didn’t count, and Goshiki tried to wipe that away from his mind completely.

They’d kissed a few days ago, in the private room. That had definitely meant something to Goshiki, and from what Shirabu had said, it meant something to him, too. It was just a kiss, though. That didn’t mean it would ever lead to anything more. It didn’t mean Shirabu thought about him in any certain way.

“You’re thinking so loud it’s giving me a headache,” said Shirabu, as he led Goshiki to the front of a classy apartment building.

“Sorry!”

Shirabu reached for the door, but hesitated. He turned toward Goshiki and said, “I’m not luring you to my apartment to take advantage of you. Stop worrying.”

“Right! I’m not… I wasn’t thinking that.”

Shirabu didn’t seem convinced, but he didn’t argue. He went inside with Goshiki on his heels and led him to an elevator. 

A minute later they reached Shirabu’s apartment on the third floor. Consistent with the outside of the building, the interior was nice, too. The walls were white, but with accents of warm ochre that made it comfortable. It wasn’t heavily decorated but it was classy, much nicer than the old posters pinned to the walls of Goshiki’s dorm room.

“This is a nice place,” he said, as he pulled off his shoes and nudged them to the side. 

“It’s okay, I guess,” said Shirabu, doing the same before advancing into the living room on socked feet. “The neighbors are unfortunate.”

Goshiki wanted to ask about that, but Shirabu dropped onto one end of the couch and Goshiki was immediately distracted.

Shirabu reached for the remote and turned on the flat screen. “Are you going to sit down or just stand there?”

Goshiki inched closer, dragging his feet across the shiny wooden floor. The kitchen was attached to this room, and the counters were glossy and spotless. The entire apartment was pristine.

Goshiki drew to a tentative halt at the end of the couch. It was plush, russet, and looked more comfortable than the bed in his dorm.

Shirabu flipped through an endless array of movie selections, not looking at him.

Shirabu had sat at the far end. Goshiki should probably sit on the opposite side, to give him space. But he didn’t want Shirabu to think he didn’t want to sit close to him, because he did. He really, really did. And they’d been so close at the club that it shouldn’t be awkward. At least they were both fully clothed. Still, he thought if Shirabu told him to scoot further away, the embarrassment would kill him.

Shirabu sighed. “Tsutomu?”

“Yeah?”

“Just sit down.”

Goshiki obediently plopped down. He realized he was in the exact center of the couch, and Shirabu didn’t seem to mind. 

“Here.” Shirabu held out the remote, and Goshiki hesitantly took it. “Pick something.”

“Oh. Okay, umm… what do you want to watch?”

“I don’t care. That’s why I told you to pick something.”

“Right. Okay.” Goshiki settled back against the couch, which was just as comfortable as it looked, and searched through his options. He didn’t know what to choose, because he was afraid he’d settle for something Shirabu didn’t like. He’d said he didn’t care, though, so Goshiki shouldn’t be worried. He decided on an action movie he’d seen about a year ago and glanced sideways to check Shirabu’s reaction.

He was impassive, as always.

“Is this okay?” asked Goshiki.

“I said I don’t care.”

Goshiki frowned.

“It’s fine,” said Shirabu, taking back the remote and turning up the volume. “I like this one.”

That lifted Goshiki’s mood considerably.

It was awkward at first. Goshiki didn’t want to talk during the movie, but he didn’t want to sit in silence, either. He shifted on the couch, pulling one leg beneath him, then straightening it out again. He pulled at the button on his cuff, popping it out and putting it back in. His eyes were on the television but his thoughts were an arm’s reach away, where Shirabu was curled against the arm of the couch.

“You’re stressing me out,” said Shirabu flatly.

Goshiki winced and went still. “Sorry.”

“What are you worried about?”

“I’m not! Nothing!”

Goshiki realized it was harder to talk to him when Shirabu was making eye contact. His stare was sharp, even when he wasn’t angry. 

“I didn’t bring you here to fuck you,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki choked. “That’s not- I wasn’t-”

“Unless you want to,” said Shirabu, with a casual shrug. “Do you?”

“No! I mean… It’s not that I don’t want to. At all. It’s just… I don’t know… how to…” He trailed off and considered trying to crawl beneath the couch.

“That’s what I thought,” said Shirabu. This conversation didn’t seem to bother him at all. “You’ve never had sex before?”

Goshiki was definitely going to crawl under the couch. “No.” 

Shirabu’s toes nudged against Goshiki’s thigh. “Stop it. It’s not something to be embarrassed about.”

“Okay,” said Goshiki, although he disagreed. 

He’d had the opportunity since he’d started university, more than once. He’d been in the right place at the right time, with a willing partner. The only thing that hadn’t been right were the people he was with, because they’d all been girls, and the thought of being intimate with a girl was just uncomfortable.

The thought of it with Shirabu was much different; better, but also debilitatingly embarrassing.

“I don’t expect anything from you,” said Shirabu. His voice was quieter, and when Goshiki looked up, he found that Shirabu’s eyes were less sharp. “Not tonight. If we go out again, I won’t then, either. No one should. Do things at your own pace.”

Goshiki found himself relaxing. He hadn’t allowed himself to explicitly think of the things that he and Shirabu could have done in that apartment, but knowing that he wasn’t obligated to do anything at all made him feel better. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. He did, and anyone who met Shirabu should have agreed. He wanted to, but he didn’t think he was ready. 

He expected to be embarrassed by that, but Shirabu’s lack of judgment gave him peace.

Shirabu was wrong about himself. He really was likeable.

“Thank you,” said Goshiki quietly.

“Don’t thank me for that. It’s common decency. If someone feels differently about it, they’re trash.” He settled in more comfortably and stretched his legs across the couch. They fell across Goshiki’s lap, warm and solid. “Just stop being nervous. There’s no reason for it.”

“Okay,” said Goshiki. This time he meant it. He expelled a breath, the tension in his muscles easing. He put a hand on Shirabu’s knee without thinking, and when Shirabu didn’t complain, he left it there. 

With that agonizingly awkward conversation out of the way, the rest of the evening passed smoothly. Goshiki was less invested in the movie than he was in the heat of Shirabu’s legs across his lap, but since he already knew the plot, it didn’t matter. He made comments every now and then, about something that happened on the screen, and Shirabu gave quiet responses. It was calm, comfortable. Then the movie ended, and Goshiki knew he should leave.

“Thank you for inviting me over,” said Goshiki. He expected Shirabu to withdraw his legs, to tell Goshiki goodnight and send him on his way.

He didn’t move.

“Are you coming to the club this week?” asked Shirabu.

“I don’t know.” He no longer had a weekly dance to appear for, but he didn’t want to forfeit spending time with Tendou. The atmosphere of Plumage was a good one, and Goshiki didn’t want to give it up. But he didn’t want to go if Shirabu thought it was weird.

“You should.” Shirabu pulled his legs back, but they weren’t gone for long. He crawled close and slung one leg across Goshiki, settling into his lap the same way he’d done in the private room. There were more clothes between them this time, but that didn’t diminish Goshiki’s immediate flush. “You can buy me a drink.”

Goshiki thought of two visits ago, when Semi had slapped a glass out of Shirabu’s hand. “But… But Semi-san-”

“I’m joking.” 

“Oh.” It was difficult to tell. Shirabu’s face never changed.

Shirabu moved close, his bangs brushing against Goshiki’s forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yes! Very sure.”

There was a twitch at the corner of Shirabu’s mouth. It was almost a smile, but Goshiki didn’t have time to think about that. Shirabu kissed him, and everything else disappeared.

Shirabu didn’t rush. His mouth moved slowly against Goshiki’s. Their lips pressed together, peeled apart, and found their way back again. One of Shirabu’s hands was on Goshiki’s shoulder, the other tangling in his hair to tilt his head back further. Goshiki reached up, cautiously, and settled his hands on Shirabu’s waist. 

Goshiki’s heartbeat was a quick, pleasant thrum as Shirabu licked at his bottom lip. Goshiki parted his lips in silent invitation and Shirabu took the kiss deeper. His tongue slipped into Goshiki’s mouth, searching, and Goshiki licked against it. Shirabu’s grip pulled tighter in dark hair as he pressed into him, and Goshiki shivered.

Shirabu pulled back, nipping at Goshiki’s lip as he retreated, and stared down at him. He was still perfectly composed, his mouth shining with Goshiki’s spit. He combed fingers through his hair as he sat back, not looking away.

“You sure you don’t want to fuck?” asked Shirabu.

Goshiki choked over his response.

“I’m joking.” Shirabu rested a hand against the side of Goshiki’s face, thumb running over his cheek. “You blush a lot when you’re embarrassed. It’s fun.”

Goshiki squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to blush even harder.

“Hey.”

Goshiki reluctantly opened his eyes again, to find Shirabu had drawn close. He kissed Goshiki one more time, gently, before sliding out of his lap. 

Goshiki didn’t immediately move. He took a few seconds to reorient himself before he felt comfortable standing. The taste of Shirabu’s mouth had left him dizzy. When he rose, Shirabu did the same. “I should go,” said Goshiki, although that was the opposite of what he wanted.

“Okay.”

Goshiki went to the door, and Shirabu followed a few steps behind. As Goshiki pulled on his shoes, Shirabu said, “Are you walking back to campus?”

“Yeah. It’s not that far.” It would be a thirty minute walk, and it would take Goshiki at least that long to calm down. 

“Do you want to go out again?”

Goshiki paused with his shoe halfway tied. “Of course! I would like that. Do you want to?”

“You’re not terrible company,” said Shirabu. 

That sounded like a yes, and Goshiki beamed. “Great! We can go anywhere you want. Just tell me where to be and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Goshiki yanked his laces into a knot and hopped back up. “Okay! Cool. I’m looking forward to it.” He rolled his weight onto the balls of his feet and then back again, and said, with a touch of uncertainty, “Can we, umm… Can we kiss again before I leave?”

Shirabu shrugged. “If you want.”

Goshiki smiled. He waited for Shirabu to step closer, and when he didn’t, Goshiki did it himself. 

It was different, when they were standing. Goshiki was taller, and he ducked his head to match Shirabu’s height. He hesitated when his mouth was a breath away. Shirabu had said it was okay, but he still felt awkward. Shirabu had initiated this every time. Goshiki didn’t know if he should-

Shirabu curled one hand into the front of Goshiki’s shirt and pulled him in. His lips were dry but soft, and Goshiki let himself linger, memorizing the feeling of him, before backing away. 

“I’ll talk to you soon,” said Goshiki. “If that’s okay.”

Shirabu didn’t answer, but his face wasn’t as flat as usual. There was a slight curve to his mouth that thawed his stony expression.

Goshiki smiled and opened the door to leave.

A bright flash of light, paired with the snap of a camera, drew him short.

“There he is!” said Tendou, too loudly in the narrow hallway. He held his cellphone up in victory. “Tsutomu’s first walk of shame. I’m so proud!”

Goshiki stumbled back, grabbing at the doorframe to keep himself steady.

Shirabu stepped up behind him, peering around Goshiki’s shoulder. “What are you doing?”

“Making memories,” said Tendou with a fond sigh. He snapped another picture of them. “They grow up so fast.” He turned his head and shouted, “Semi-Semi! Get out here!”

The door across the hall was propped halfway open. From within, Semi snapped, “No! Leave them alone, Satori!”

Tendou shrugged. “He doesn’t know how to have a good time.”

“I’m concerned,” said Shirabu, “that you really don’t know what a walk of shame is.”

“Was it good?” asked Tendou, ignoring him. “Judging from Tsutomu’s hair, I’m guessing it was.”

Goshiki pawed at his hair, wondering what Shirabu’s wandering hands had done to it. Tendou cackled.

“Ignore him,” said Shirabu. He gave Goshiki a gentle nudge between his shoulders, coaxing him into the hallway. “I told you the neighbors are terrible.”

“That cuts me deep, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou. “I’m wounded.”

“Tendou-san lives here?” asked Goshiki, putting the pieces together much too late.

“Unfortunately,” said Shirabu. 

“Don’t lie.” Tendou grinned. “I’m your favorite hallmate and you know it.”

“Do you really have nothing better to do than stand out here waiting for Tsutomu to leave?”

“Not really, no,” said Tendou, shameless. “Honestly I expected to be here longer. That was quick. Don’t worry though, it’ll last longer next time. Just keep practicing.”

Goshiki’s face was so hot he was certain it would melt off. 

“He’s just messing with you,” said Shirabu. “Come on.” He led the way down the hall, toward the elevator, and Goshiki rushed after him.

“Bye-bye, Tsutomu!” called Tendou. “You’ll have to tell me all about it later!”

From the distant apartment, Semi shouted, “Shut up and get your ass back in here!”

Goshiki watched Tendou over his shoulder, but Shirabu took his elbow and pulled him along.

“He wasn’t being serious,” said Shirabu, when they were far enough down the hallway that Tendou could no longer be heard. “You know how he is.”

“Right,” said Goshiki. He hesitated, and added, “Does he really think we… did… _that_?”

“I doubt it,” said Shirabu. “If I’d brought you here for that, you wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon.”

Goshiki’s flush spread down the back of his neck.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” said Shirabu, echoing Goshiki’s words from a few moments before.

“Right,” said Goshiki. “Soon. Bye, Shirabu-san.”

“Goodbye.”

Goshiki backed into the elevator, waving at Shirabu before the doors closed between them. As soon as he was alone, he slumped against the wall with a relieved sigh.

He’d survived. He may have embarrassed himself a time or two, but he hadn’t come off as a complete idiot, and Shirabu hadn’t seemed annoyed by him. He’d even gotten to kiss Shirabu, more than once. And Shirabu wanted to go out again.

All things considered, it had been a good date. A great one, even. Goshiki wouldn’t have dared to think it would go so well.

As he stepped off the elevator and made his way outside to the sidewalk, Goshiki thought about what Shirabu had said a few days before, at the club. He’d said Goshiki might change his mind, once they got to know each other. He’d said he wasn’t likeable, and suggested Goshiki would figure that out soon enough.

It had been ridiculous then, and it was even more ridiculous now. Goshiki hadn’t learned a single new thing about Shirabu that he disliked. It was quite the opposite. 

The more he got to know Shirabu, the more he was certain that he really, really liked him. More than he’d thought he would, when they’d first met. More than he’d expected to like anyone. Too much, probably.

But he thought maybe, just maybe, Shirabu was beginning to like him back.


	7. Chapter 7

If Shirabu hadn’t asked about Goshiki’s plans to return to Plumage, he probably wouldn’t have gone back. But since he’d been given permission, he eagerly showed up on Thursday night, as usual. Everything was the same on the surface, but there was a new flutter in Goshiki’s stomach, along with the usual nerves and eagerness. The flutter was warmer, and it curled into breathless affection when he saw Shirabu on stage.

Shirabu dipped into a reverse spin, eyes catching on Goshiki as he turned. It was difficult to tell, but Goshiki could have sworn that the hand arched over Shirabu’s head twitched with a subtle wave. 

Goshiki smiled to himself and headed toward the bar, hopping into his usual seat near the end. Tendou was nowhere in sight, but Semi wandered over after popping open a couple of beers and passing them across the counter.

“Hey, Tsutomu. How’s it going?”

“Good!” said Goshiki. “Great! How are you?”

Semi’s smile was amused. “I’m good, thanks. Want the usual?”

“Yes, please!”

Semi went to make his drink, and Goshiki swiveled back toward the stage. There were two other dancers currently performing, but he didn’t even glance at them. It was impossible, with Shirabu there. He outshone everyone.

Shirabu wrapped himself around the pole with lean limbs, hefting himself up effortlessly, swaying back down in a fluid spin. He landed on his tiptoes, a picture of grace, and a scatter of yen was tossed at his feet. 

He wasn’t wearing the same outfit as usual. It was lace, but not black or wine red. It was ivory, and it looked soft against his skin.

“It took him long enough,” said Semi, sliding Goshiki’s drink over, “but he finally took my advice. It looks good on him, right?”

Goshiki let himself linger, watching as Shirabu slid on his knees to the edge of the stage to collect tips. He forced himself to look away and turned back toward the counter. “Yeah, it does.”

Semi propped his elbows on the bar. “So how was the date last week?”

“It was good!” Goshiki picked up the drink, just to have something to do with his hands. “I think so, anyway. It seemed good, and Shirabu-san has answered my texts, so maybe he thinks so, too.”

“He hasn’t complained about it,” said Semi, “and he complains about mostly everything, so that’s saying a lot.”

Goshiki smiled as he took the first sip of his mojito. 

Semi paused, and added, “Sorry about Tendou, but you know how he is. He thought he was being funny.”

“That’s okay! I don’t mind.” Goshiki glanced off to the side. “Does he think that… that Shirabu-san and I…?”

“No, he doesn’t. He was just messing around.” 

Goshiki breathed a sigh.

“But even if you had,” said Semi, “it’s not his business, or anyone else’s. If he starts nagging you too hard just tell him to fuck off. He won’t be mad, I promise. I say it all the time.”

Goshiki felt the circumstances were different. Semi could probably say anything he wanted to Tendou and get by with it. 

He remembered that Semi had been in Tendou’s apartment too, across the hall from Shirabu’s. He’d been too distracted to think about it, but now he wondered how often Semi and Tendou spent time together outside of the club.

“So you and Tendou-san are close friends?” he asked.

Semi seemed surprised by the question, but his mouth twitched with a grin. “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

Goshiki tilted his head, but didn’t have time to ask another question.

“Tsutomu, you made it!” Tendou patted Goshiki’s shoulder as he climbed into his chair. “I’m not surprised. After you get a taste of something like that, you just can’t stay away, huh?”

Goshiki didn’t even have time to be embarrassed. Semi slapped a hand on the bar, startling both of them, and glared at Tendou.

“Stop it,” snapped Semi. The suddenness of his mood shift made Goshiki dizzy. “I know you’re just trying to have fun, but if you keep it up, you’ll make him uncomfortable. Look at him. Do you want him to be uncomfortable?”

Tendou slid a sideways glance at Goshiki, who stared back, baffled. 

“Of course not,” said Tendou. “I just-”

“Then tone it down,” said Semi, talking over him. “I’m serious.”

“Okay, okay.” Tendou held his hands up in surrender. “Got it.”

Semi’s attention shifted to Goshiki, his face immediately thawing. “Just wave me down when you want another one, okay?”

Goshiki nodded mutely, and Semi walked away. Goshiki was afraid Tendou would think he’d said something to Semi, a complaint about the teasing, but that didn’t seem to cross his mind.

Tendou leaned on the bar with a sigh, staring after Semi. “I love when he gets all bossy like that.”

Goshiki’s eyebrows rose, his stare passing back and forth from Tendou to Semi. He was beginning to think that maybe something was going on between them. He wanted to ask, but thought it was none of his business.

Tendou patted Goshiki’s head. “Sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Tsutomu-kun.”

“Yes! I mean, no, you didn’t! It’s okay!”

Tendou grinned and pushed his fingers through Goshiki’s hair, setting it to disarray. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

Goshiki ducked his head and pretended not to be embarrassed as he flattened down his hair.

Goshiki truly didn’t mind Tendou’s teasing, and even with Semi’s warning it didn’t stop completely, but he was relieved that his evening with Shirabu went unmentioned. He didn’t know how much of it was okay to talk about and how much he should keep to himself. It was conflicting. He was so thrilled about it that he wanted to tell every detail, but at the same time, it was something that he wanted to keep all to himself.

That had never happened. Goshiki always liked to tell everyone about everything. Keeping secrets was foreign to him.

He whiled away the time with Tendou, and occasionally Semi, when he wasn’t busy making drinks. Goshiki kept an eye on Shirabu when he was on the stage, but between the performances, he seemed to disappear. Goshiki couldn’t figure out why until he noticed him on the opposite side of the club, perched on the lap of a large, thick-bearded man whose watch was valuable enough to pay a full semester of Goshiki’s tuition.

Goshiki didn’t look for very long. He didn’t want Shirabu to see him watching.

Goshiki thought maybe he would feel jealous, now that he had something with Shirabu that was a step more than a business relationship. To his surprise, he felt nothing of the sort. This was Shirabu’s job, and Goshiki had discovered firsthand that he was good at it. He was just working, and Goshiki couldn’t resent him for that.

“I’m so proud of you, Tsutomu,” said Tendou. He studied Goshiki over the rim of his drink, which Semi had refused him until he’d resorted to obnoxious begging. “You see your man grinding all over a stranger and you don’t even flinch.”

Goshiki’s face went warm, but probably not for the reason Tendou had intended. “Shirabu-san isn’t my… my anything. He can do whatever he wants to do.”

“What if he was, though?” asked Tendou. “Then what?”

Goshiki frowned down at his drink. “He isn’t.”

“But what if-”

“He could still do whatever he wanted.” Goshiki took a slurp of mojito. “He would never belong to me, or anyone else.”

Tendou hummed. “You’re right. Shirabu’s too stubborn to belong to anyone.” His grin was smug. “You would certainly belong to him, though.”

Goshiki’s face burned hotter. He thought that after weeks of exposure to Tendou, he would have gotten over his blushing habit. 

He had no such luck.

The DJ’s voice filtered through the low grind of the music. Goshiki had largely taught himself to drown it out, except when one particular name was announced. He swiveled quickly in his seat, just in time to see Shirabu mount the stairs of the stage.

“My point exactly,” mumbled Tendou. Goshiki hardly heard him.

Goshiki had memorized Shirabu’s routines over the past few weeks. He knew which ones matched up with what songs, the tricks that made his audience sit at the edge of their seats, and on exactly which beat Shirabu started stripping.

He’d shrugged his clothes back on before he’d stepped onto the stage, but that didn’t last long. By the time the first song had wound down, he was bare down to the lace again, the ivory soaking in the multicolored lights overhead as he rotated to a different section of the stage so Kawanishi could take center.

Tendou sighed. “He’s so stiff. He did much better when he could have a shot of vodka or two.”

Goshiki frowned, but realized Tendou was referring to Kawanishi, not Shirabu. That made more sense. Goshiki had never watched Kawanishi very closely, but Shirabu was anything but stiff.

As if proving the point, Shirabu sank into a neat backbend in midair, his legs wrapped around the pole.

“Maybe Taichi just needs to get off before his shift, to mellow out,” said Tendou, thoughtful. “I’ll suggest it.”

Goshiki nearly choked over his drink.

Semi must have appeared somewhere near the tail end of that conversation. “Satori, I swear if you say that to him, I’ll murder you.”

“I’m just looking out for him, Semi-Semi,” said Tendou, leaning back to grin at him. “I’m a good mentor.”

“You’re a fucking disaster.”

They bickered quietly between themselves. Goshiki was used to it, so it was easy to drown them out in favor of watching Shirabu. Another song ended, and the dancers rotated again. Shirabu started toward the far end of the stage but stopped near the center, turning his head to look directly at Goshiki. He crooked a finger at him and pointed at the seats lining the end of the stage.

It was a clear cue, one that Goshiki nearly fell out of his chair to follow.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back!” he said as he left the bar, distantly aware of some low comment from Tendou. 

Goshiki chose a seat between two strangers, face upturned toward the stage. Shirabu didn’t acknowledge him, but his eyes lingered for an extra half second before he started his routine. 

Shirabu had been beautiful from across the club, and he was beautiful up close. Goshiki had known that already. It didn’t matter if he was here, dressed in lace, or out at a restaurant dressed in nice jeans. He would’ve been just as appealing in sweats, too. No matter what he wore, or what he was doing, he was the most attractive man Goshiki had ever seen.

Goshiki had no idea why someone like Shirabu had gone out with him, but he thought maybe he was the luckiest human being alive.

Shirabu kicked into a slow spin, swiveling down to the floor. He crawled to the edge of the stage, sinuous and sensual, and stopped directly in front of Goshiki, despite the handfuls of yen being offered by the other customers. He leaned off the edge, curled a hand into the front of Goshiki’s shirt, and pulled him close to murmur in his ear.

“Wait for me at side stage when this dance is over.”

Goshiki could only nod, mutely, as Shirabu released him and shuffled to the side, dipping a thumb into his ivory garter and letting a man slip a few bills into the elastic.

Goshiki stayed where he was, mesmerized, until the last few notes of the song bled into a new one and the DJ announced Griffin’s turn on center stage. Goshiki hopped to his feet and nearly tripped over the corner of his chair in his haste to get to the stage stairs. He waited at the bottom, rolling from the balls of his feet to the heels and back again, until Shirabu descended with his clothes tossed over his shoulder, his hair a little windswept from the spins. 

“Come on,” said Shirabu. He took Goshiki’s elbow and nudged him toward the curtain at the back of the bar. “We’re going to a private room.”

Goshiki balked, but Shirabu nudged him harder and he had no choice but to walk with him. “But I’m not supposed to be your customer anymore because-”

“Just walk.” Shirabu slipped his arm into Goshiki’s more securely. “You’re doing me a favor.”

Goshiki didn’t argue anymore after that. He would’ve done nearly anything for Shirabu.

They slipped through the curtain – Shirabu spared a glance over his shoulder as they went – and Goshiki was led to room 10.

He didn’t know what Shirabu was doing. Goshiki hadn’t brought enough money for a private dance. His mother had cut him off except for food money and university costs because he’d withdrawn too much over the past couple of months and couldn’t explain what he’d spent it on.

Shirabu gestured toward the couch, and despite Goshiki’s confusion, he sat without complaint. Shirabu crossed the room and went up on his toes, fumbling at the camera mounted in the corner until the red light flickered out.

With a sigh, Shirabu collapsed beside Goshiki, head tilted against the back of the couch. 

Goshiki watched him for a minute, uncertain. Finally he asked, “Are you okay, Shirabu-san?”

“I’m fine,” said Shirabu. He pushed a hand through his hair and sat up, his shoulder pressed against Goshiki’s. “Fancy Businessman has bought ten consecutive lapdances, and while I appreciate the money, I’m sick of hearing him breathe in my ear. He sounds like he smokes three packs a day.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“If he would buy a private dance it would be worth it, but he’s too damn stingy.” Shirabu rolled his eyes. “I would make almost as much off of one private dance as I did from half of those lapdances.”

“He would still be breathing on you, though,” said Goshiki.

Shirabu huffed a breath. It almost sounded like a laugh, and Goshiki’s heart soared. “Yeah, but I could deal with it for more money.”

“Can you just… not do them?” asked Goshiki. He wasn’t sure what sorts of questions he was allowed to ask about Shirabu’s job without coming off as invasive. 

“I could,” said Shirabu, “but it would look bad. It would be stupid to turn down the money too, no matter how annoying someone is. As long as they’re not breaking the rules, I don’t turn them down.”

“So we’re back here because you wanted a break?”

“Partly,” said Shirabu. He tilted his head to the side, eyeing Goshiki. “Also because I’ve been so busy with him that I haven’t spoken to you.”

“Oh.” Goshiki processed that, a slow smile spreading over his face. “Thanks!”

Shirabu snorted, softly. “I did invite you. I could at least spare a few minutes of my time.”

“That’s okay! You don’t have to. I understand.” He paused, and added, “I’m happy you did, though. I was hoping I’d get to talk to you.”

“Talk, then.” Shirabu laid back, kicking his legs across Goshiki’s lap and settling into the leather. “I’m listening.”

Goshiki wasn’t sure what Shirabu wanted him to say, but talking had always been one of Goshiki’s strengths. He told Shirabu about the past few days, and about his team’s upcoming match, and about Semi snapping at Tendou earlier that night. As he spoke, he found himself tracing a light trail from Shirabu’s shin, up across his knee, and midway up his bare thigh and back again. He didn’t realize he was doing it at first, but even when he noticed, he didn’t stop. Shirabu didn’t seem to mind.

Shirabu’s eyes had drifted closed, arms pillowed behind his head, but Goshiki thought he was still awake. There was a little crease between his eyebrows that suggested he was focused.

“What time is your match tomorrow?” asked Shirabu, when Goshiki had exhausted the reserves of his monologue.

“Eight.”

“I have to be here at nine.”

“Right…?” Goshiki wasn’t sure why Shirabu was telling him that. He already knew Shirabu’s schedule. 

Shirabu opened his eyes. “If I didn’t have to work, I’d come watch.”

Goshiki’s fingers had still been drifting along the smooth skin of Shirabu’s leg. Now they stopped, curling around his knee. “Oh.” Goshiki’s face got warm. “Oh, you… _Oh_. Thank you, Shirabu-san!”

“Don’t thank me for something I can’t do,” said Shirabu flatly. He peeled away from the couch and draped himself across Goshiki, sitting in his lap, hands on his shoulders. It was a common seat for him, when they were alone. Goshiki wasn’t complaining. “You should come out with us afterwards. We’ll go to the same izakaya as last time.”

“Sure! If you want me to.”

“If I didn’t, I wouldn’t have asked.” Shirabu looped his arms around Goshiki’s neck and leaned closer. “I’ll have to go back out there in a few minutes. Maybe since Fancy Businessman saw me come back here with someone else, he’ll get jealous and pay for a private dance, too.”

“Right,” said Goshiki. He barely even heard him. He was too fixated on the warmth of Shirabu’s breath on his lips. “Maybe.”

“Does that bother you?” asked Shirabu.

“What?”

“When I dance for other men. Does it bother you?”

Goshiki glanced from Shirabu’s eyes down to his mouth and back again. “No. It doesn’t bother me.”

Shirabu tilted his head, just slightly. “Good.” One of his hands slipped into the back of Goshiki’s hair, fingers curling. “It shouldn’t.” 

Shirabu kissed him, and although it wasn’t the first time it had happened, or even the second, Goshiki’s heart still skipped a few beats. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to it.

Shirabu pressed him into the back of the couch, his mouth insistent. Goshiki rested his hands on Shirabu’s hips, fingers brushing over smooth skin and soft lace. Shirabu nudged against Goshiki’s shoulder, urging him to the side, and a heartbeat later Goshiki found himself on his back with Shirabu on top of him, the weight drawing Goshiki’s breath short. He didn’t mind, even a little. 

Shirabu licked into Goshiki’s mouth, tasting him, curling their tongues together in a way that made Goshiki gasp. Shirabu’s hands were on him – one in his hair, the other roaming down his neck, across his chest – but he was so lost in the sensation of Shirabu’s mouth that he hardly noticed. 

But when Shirabu pressed closer, his hips rolling into Goshiki’s, he definitely noticed that.

Goshiki turned his hot face away, raising a hand to shield himself. “I’m sorry!” 

Shirabu huffed and pushed his hand away, kissing the corner of Goshiki’s retreating mouth. “For what?”

“For, umm… for… you know.”

“For getting a hard-on?” asked Shirabu, shameless. “At this point I would be offended if you didn’t.”

Goshiki tried to roll against the back of the couch, away from him, but Shirabu didn’t budge. He was sturdier than he looked. 

Shirabu squeezed Goshiki’s chin and turned his face back around. “Look at me.”

Goshiki did, although he would have rather crawled beneath the couch to hide.

“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” said Shirabu. “If I didn’t have to be working the floor in five minutes I could get it up for you easy.”

If Shirabu didn’t want him to be embarrassed, he shouldn’t have said _that_.

Goshiki groaned and slapped both of his hands over his face. It was radiating heat. Shirabu made a low sound, and Goshiki peeked between his fingers to catch a glimpse of a smug smile before Shirabu climbed off of him.

It was hard to tell, but he thought maybe Shirabu was teasing him.

“I’ll be busy for the rest of the night,” said Shirabu, stretching his arms over his head as he stood. “I’ll see you tomorrow, though. If you meet up with us.”

“Yes!” said Goshiki. He sat up, but didn’t stand just yet. The awkwardness of the situation had mostly killed his erection but he wanted to be sure. “I will. If that’s okay.”

“I already said it was.” Shirabu went up on his toes again to reactivate the camera.

“Umm… won’t you get in trouble for messing with that?” asked Goshiki, uncertain.

“No. I didn’t tell any of the bouncers I was coming back here, so they don’t know the difference. I just wanted to stop Tendou from going back and watching the video like he did last time.”

Goshiki had thought he couldn’t possibly be more embarrassed, but that did it.

“Come on,” said Shirabu. He grabbed his clothes from the corner and tossed them over his shoulder again. “Walk out with me. I want Fancy Businessman to see.”

Maybe Goshiki should have been concerned that Shirabu was using him as a prop, but it didn’t feel that way. That wasn’t the reason he’d wanted to spend a few minutes with Goshiki. It was just an added bonus, and Goshiki didn’t mind. He would’ve helped Shirabu in any way he could.

They left the room together, and Shirabu pushed through the curtain as they entered the main room. The businessman across the room zeroed in on them immediately.

Shirabu went up on his toes to speak into Goshiki’s ear. “Thanks for the break. Text me later.”

Goshiki nodded, and Shirabu drifted away. Goshiki wanted to watch him go, but worried that it would be creepy. He turned away and returned to the bar, where a fresh drink was already waiting in front of his seat. 

Tendou was leaning on the counter, watching Semi, but his attention shifted when Goshiki returned. He stared for a moment without saying anything, and Goshiki thought maybe he would avoid any suggestive comments.

Of course he was wrong.

“Tell Kenji that he needs to keep his hands to himself,” said Tendou with a grin. “Walking out of the private rooms with sex hair gives the wrong impression.”

Goshiki ducked his head and worried at his hair, trying to flatten it back down while Tendou laughed. It didn’t bother him much. Tendou was only joking, and Goshiki had been so embarrassed by Shirabu five minutes ago that this was nothing in comparison.

“Satori, the fuck did I say?” snapped Semi. He’d appeared out of nowhere. 

“C’mon, Semi-Semi, I was just-”

“Just nothing, leave them alone and-”

They dissolved into bickering, and Goshiki quietly sipped at his drink. It was nice of Semi to defend him, but he didn’t mind Tendou’s jokes, either. Regardless, he wasn’t about to step into that minefield of an argument. He swiveled around to survey the stage, just in time to see Shirabu duck past the curtain with the businessman in tow. 

Goshiki smiled to himself, but it immediately vanished.

He was happy that Shirabu had gotten some private time with another man. That probably wasn’t something he should be smiling about.

But it meant Shirabu was making money, and succeeding at his job, which was good.

And Goshiki knew that the businessman wouldn’t get the same treatment in the back room that Goshiki had gotten a few minutes ago. 

He let himself smile again as he spun back toward the bar. 

  
  
  
  
  
The match was against a university team from Kyoto, one that Goshiki had played against for the past four years. They were a strong team, and they’d traded victories back and forth each time they faced each other. Last year Kyoto had won, so this year Goshiki was determined to take back a win before he graduated.

They didn’t make it easy. Their spikers were strong, their setter was quick, and their libero may have been inhuman. 

But Goshiki was the ace of his team, and he didn’t care who they were playing against. He was still determined to win.

It was a long match, each set dragging into the thirty-point range, the rallies lengthening as time wore on. Goshiki was exhausted by the end of the second set, which Kyoto had barely won. He wanted to lie down and rest, but not as much as he wanted to win.

Kyoto played hard, but Goshiki – and his team, by extension – played harder. They won, and Goshiki celebrated so loudly with his teammates that he was hoarse by the time they left the stadium. They went out for drinks, and since it was still early, Goshiki went with them.

They ended up at a bar Goshiki had never visited, ordering so many rounds of drinks that the bartender was getting frustrated. Goshiki kept his alcohol intake to a minimum, because he didn’t want to be drunk when he saw Shirabu. 

“Everything okay?” asked Kindaichi, when they’d been there for a while. The others were growing steadily louder, their laughter ringing from the rafters. “You keep looking at your phone.”

Goshiki glanced up, realizing he’d been doing exactly that. “Oh. Just checking the time. I, uh… I have to be somewhere soon.”

“At this time of night?”

Goshiki nodded, his lip catching between his teeth. “Yes.”

“Is it your date from Sunday?”

Goshiki checked his phone again. Another minute had drizzled by. “Yes.”

“Why so late?”

Goshiki scanned the table, making sure the rest of his team were too caught up in their own conversations to eavesdrop. “Shirabu-san works late.”

“Oh.” Kindaichi considered that, and let it go with a shrug. “Okay then.”

Goshiki sighed, relieved that he hadn’t pushed for more information. He didn’t know what he would have said if Kindaichi had asked what sort of work Shirabu did. He couldn’t think of any other line of work that required someone to be on-shift until two a.m, and he didn’t want to lie. If he lied, that meant he was ashamed of Shirabu’s work, and he wasn’t. He could never be ashamed of anything about Shirabu. He was as close to perfect as anyone Goshiki had ever met.

“So I guess the date went well,” said Kindaichi a few minutes later, keeping his tone low.

Goshiki smiled. “It did. Really well.”

Kindaichi nodded and let the subject drop.

Goshiki stayed for a while, jumping into conversations every time someone mentioned the game, turning down the shots his teammates tried to push on him. It was one-fifteen when he excused himself from the table, amid a chorus of protests, and left the bar. 

It was a few minutes before two when he reached Plumage. He expected the doors to be locked already, but he gave an experimental tug and it swung open. The same girl was behind the clear glass, and she barely glanced at Goshiki before waving him through.

Ever since the day Tendou had paid his cover charge, she hadn’t collected money from him again. Goshiki didn’t know if he’d been put on some sort of list, or if Tendou was running a covert tab. He hoped it was the former, because he didn’t want to be a drain on Tendou’s wallet.

He stepped into the main area of the club, and immediately considered leaving again.

The customers had already cleared out, and only the dancers remained. Reon was halfway up one of the poles, brow folded in concentration as he settled his grip and extended his feet, straightening himself into a horizontal line, muscles flexing. He must have been practicing, now that there was no one around to impress. That was logical, and Goshiki wished it was the only thing he’d seen.

Tendou was on a pole too, and as soon as Goshiki stepped inside, a red g-string went flying across the room.

“God, I wish this was a full nude club,” said Tendou, his voice carrying easily without the pulse of loud music. He squeezed the pole and flipped upside down, flinging his legs into a full split. “It’s so freeing!”

Goshiki tried to turn away, but shock froze him to the spot.

“Satori, what the fuck!” 

Semi’s shout snapped Goshiki from his stupor. He looked away, quickly, and headed for the far side of the room with his head down. He passed by Semi, who was dressed only in his leather jockstrap. “It’s still business hours for three minutes! If someone comes in and sees you-”

“Then they’ll be a regular customer from now on. Lighten up, Semi-Semi.”

“Satori, I swear to god-”

Goshiki missed the last part of their argument. He ducked through the curtain and fanned a hand at his face, trying to cool it down. He was grateful that he’d slipped away from that situation without being noticed. Tendou would’ve teased him for the rest of his life.

The private rooms were straight ahead, down a hallway that reached to the back of the building. To the right was the exit door through which the dancers took their breaks. Goshiki went left instead, as Shirabu had instructed via text message half an hour earlier. Last time Goshiki had met them at the restaurant, but last time he’d been late. Shirabu had said he could swing by the club first, if he was early, and Goshiki was eager to seize any chance he could get to see Shirabu. 

He found the dancers’ dressing rooms easily. There were several of them spanning down the hallway, some of them marked, some of them blank. The doors to some stood open, and Goshiki caught glimpses of full-length mirrors and small outfits on clothes hangers. The first few rooms were large, and Goshiki assumed multiple dancers must have shared them. They became smaller as he progressed, and these were marked with stage names. One of them was labeled “Phoenix & Chimera”, and Goshiki wondered who’d decided it was a good idea to have Semi and Tendou share a dressing room. It seemed like a bad idea. The next one was “Griffin & Falcon”, and the last room, the one that Goshiki was looking for, was marked “Osprey & Raven”. The door was closed, and Goshiki rapped his knuckles against it.

A few seconds later a pair of sharp eyes peered out at him.

“Umm, hi!” said Goshiki. He recognized Kawanishi, but didn’t know if Kawanishi recognized him, too. “I’m here to see Shirabu. Uhh… Raven. Is he… here?”

Kawanishi eyed him, long enough to make Goshiki think he’d chosen the wrong room after all, before stepping back and kicking the door open. He was fully clothed, which was a relief after the scene out front. “Shirabu, your suitor is here.” He slipped past Goshiki and ambled down the hallway, hands tucked in his pockets.

Goshiki stared after him before turning back toward the open door. He didn’t know if he was allowed to go inside. If Shirabu was changing, he didn’t want to interrupt him. Maybe he should have just gone to the restaurant and waited, after all. It would’ve been the easiest thing to do. Maybe he should still do that now.

“You can come in.” Shirabu’s voice came from inside the room. “I can hear you overthinking from all the way in here.”

Goshiki wasn’t offended by that. He ducked into the room to find Shirabu yanking on a t-shirt. When his head popped out of the collar, his hair was ruffled. He’d already dressed himself in a pair of sweats, only his feet left bare. 

“Sorry,” said Goshiki, the apology automatic. “I could’ve just met you at the izakaya, I shouldn’t have-”

“It’s fine.” Shirabu cut the rambling short. He balanced neatly on one foot and then the other as he pulled on a pair of socks. “Give me a minute.”

Goshiki would’ve given Shirabu as many minutes as he wanted. While he waited, he glanced around the dressing room, which was barer than some of the others he’d passed. A wide mirror took up most of one wall, and Goshiki noticed that his hair had dried weird from his post-match shower. He combed through it with his fingers, eyes catching on the pair of wardrobes that must have contained Kawanishi and Shirabu’s dancing clothes.

“Okay,” said Shirabu. He slipped into a hoodie and yanked it down around his hips. “Let’s go.”

“Right!” said Goshiki. He followed him out, but stopped when Shirabu paused in the doorway. 

Shirabu looked over his shoulder and asked, “Did you win the match?”

A spark of the evening’s excitement rekindled in Goshiki’s chest. “Yes! We won. It was a tough match but we won.”

Shirabu nodded. “Good.” He stepped into the hall and shut the door behind them. “You can tell me about it later, if you want.”

Goshiki beamed. 

They traveled down the hall, took the corner, and Goshiki came to a dead stop.

Seeing Tendou completely naked on the stage had been one level of mortifying.

Seeing him pinned against the wall, with Semi kissing him so hard that it looked painful, was another level entirely.

At least Tendou was wearing his g-string again. Still, the sheer volume of bare skin and roaming hands was somehow more explicit than full nudity.

One of them made a low sound, too close to a moan for Goshiki’s personal comfort. He wasn’t sure which of them it had been, and he could definitely live without knowing.

“Disgusting,” said Shirabu flatly. He grabbed Goshiki’s sleeve and tugged him along. “The two of you literally have a room. Use it. No one wants to see this.”

Tendou licked at Semi’s mouth and pulled back, leering at the pair of them as they stepped past. “Sounds like someone is jealous. There’s no need, Kenji-kun. I’m sure you and Tsutomu can- _mphh_.”

Whatever he’d been saying was cut off when Semi yanked him back down, biting his lip and stealing the words from his mouth.

Goshiki had his answer about Tendou and Semi’s relationship. He would have preferred to find out differently.

“They did that on stage once,” said Shirabu. He sounded wholly unimpressed. “They made a lot of money that night, but Ushijima-san made them stop. He said it gives the club a bad image.”

Goshiki didn’t know how to respond to that, or if he even could. He was still reeling.

Shirabu pushed through the curtain and linked his arm with Goshiki’s, pulling him along. He felt warm, but that must have just been in Goshiki’s head. It would have been impossible to feel that through the double layer of hoodie sleeves between them.

“If they start that bullshit at the izakaya, we’re leaving,” said Shirabu. “They’re embarrassing.”

The only thing that Goshiki really caught from that sentence was that Shirabu had said “we”, as if the two of them were a matched pair. Goshiki grinned all the way across the club, even when he noticed Ushijima watching them from behind the bar, where he was wiping down the counter. There was no menace in his expression, as there had been during Goshiki’s first visit. That made him feel even better.

They emerged onto the street in a burst of cool air. Shirabu grumbled under his breath and stepped a little closer to Goshiki, who was suddenly grateful for the chilly weather. The sidewalk was largely vacant, occupied only by one lone passerby. Goshiki hardly noticed them. He was too fixated on the way Shirabu was pressed against his side, their arms still linked, a light dusting of pink creeping across Shirabu’s face from the cold. 

He was only aware of the other person when they stopped and said his name. 

“Goshiki?”

Goshiki scraped to a sudden halt, and Shirabu stopped with him. His pleasant buzz trickled away, replaced with a pinch of dread. He turned to find Kindaichi looking back, his surprised stare stuck to Shirabu.


	8. Chapter 8

Goshiki’s mind went completely blank. He stared at Kindaichi, dumbfounded, trying to puzzle out the situation. These two parts of his life weren’t supposed to overlap. They shouldn’t exist in the same place, in the same moment. It was baffling, but as Kindaichi glanced back and forth between the two of them, the confusion gave way to cold dread.

“So… you guys are finished at the bar?” said Goshiki. It was the only thing he could say that seemed normal.

“The rest of them are still there,” said Kindaichi. “They were getting kind of rowdy so I left.” He looked at Shirabu again, quietly speculating.

Goshiki took a breath, held it. He didn’t know how to proceed here. He could brush Kindaichi off, make a quick retreat, and hope he never mentioned this again. But if he did that, Shirabu might think he was embarrassed to be seen with him, and he wasn’t. That wasn’t the problem at all. 

Goshiki glanced toward Shirabu, who’d clearly sensed the tension. He tried to shift away from Goshiki, carefully withdrawing his arm. 

He must have known Goshiki’s turmoil. He was trying to help, to put distance between them.

Goshiki exhaled, and some of his uncertainty disappeared into the cold air. He readjusted, pulled Shirabu close again.

“This is my teammate,” he said. He tried to sound confident, but the words wavered. “Kindaichi. Kindaichi, this is Shirabu-san.”

He didn’t have to elaborate. He’d already told Kindaichi the name of his date. 

Understanding dawned on Kindaichi’s face. He looked to Shirabu again, and Goshiki realized only then that this wasn’t just a matter of his sexual preference. Kindaichi hadn’t only caught him out with a random man. They’d just stepped out of Plumage, which was well known for being a gay club. Shirabu was fully clothed, but the smudge of glitter that lingered across his eyelids and the club’s name stamped across the leg of his sweats suggested he wasn’t just a customer.

“It’s nice to meet you, Shirabu-san,” said Kindaichi, with a dip of his head. 

Shirabu studied him. “You as well. Tsutomu said you won your match. Congratulations.”

Kindaichi’s mouth twitched in an attempt at a smile. “Thank you. We only won because of Goshiki.”

“That’s not true,” sputtered Goshiki. “We all-”

“I’ll let you get to your date,” said Kindaichi, cutting him short. He knew Goshiki well enough to know that interrupting him before he could begin ranting was the best way to go. “I’ll see you Sunday, at practice.”

“Sure,” said Goshiki, as Kindaichi turned to walk away. “See you.”

Goshiki stared after him, long enough that Shirabu pulled at his sleeve and steered him back around. Neither of them spoke. Goshiki was too caught up in his head, wondering who Kindaichi was going to tell and when. Surely it would be before Sunday. When Goshiki walked into practice, everyone would know. Maybe they would kick him off the team. Maybe they would kick him out of the university altogether, and he would have to start over from scratch at a different school, where no one knew him.

They reached the izakaya, and Goshiki got yanked back when he started for the door.

“Wait,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki went stiff. He thought he’d made the right decision by Shirabu, at least. Was he angry about something Goshiki had said? He’d introduced him, but maybe he’d been expecting Goshiki to say something more. Or maybe he didn’t want to be introduced at all. They were out of the club, but maybe he preferred that no one knew his real name, even when he wasn’t on the stage.

Goshiki was trying to piece together a fitting apology when Shirabu said, “Are you okay?”

Goshiki blinked. He hadn’t been expecting that. “Uh… Yes! Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”

Shirabu wasn’t convinced. “You don’t seem fine.”

Goshiki struggled for an answer and came up short.

“I’m guessing your teammates don’t know you’re gay,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki started to speak, stopped himself, and tried again. “It’s not… I’m not, like… _ashamed_ , or anything. Of you, I mean. Of course I’m not, it’s just… I’ve never told them because I didn’t know how to say it, or what they would think, but I guess I should’ve done it anyway because-”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me,” said Shirabu. He spoke calmly, and the smooth tone of his voice made Goshiki feel a little less anxious. “Who you tell is your decision. I didn’t intend to make things difficult for you.”

Goshiki mulled that over for a moment before he realized Shirabu was trying to apologize.

“No!” said Goshiki, too loudly. “No, you didn’t… Please, Shirabu-san, this isn’t your fault. I should’ve been brave enough to tell them already. It’s stupid to keep it a secret so long. I was just scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared of something like that,” said Shirabu. “You’re not obligated to tell anyone about it. You don’t owe them an explanation. Sometimes it’s safer to keep it to yourself.” He frowned, staring off across the street instead of at Goshiki. 

Goshiki worried that he was angry, or disappointed, but Shirabu kept their arms linked together.

“Let’s skip the izakaya,” said Shirabu, after a few minutes of silent thought. “We can get takeout and go to my apartment.”

“But you guys always meet up on Fridays,” said Goshiki. He didn’t want to be the reason that Shirabu missed out on his weekly night out. “Don’t cancel because of me. I’ll leave, if you want to go alone. It’s fine.”

“You’re ridiculous,” said Shirabu flatly. “Has anyone ever told you that?”

Goshiki struggled for a response, but Shirabu spoke again before he could find one.

“I don’t even like coming here.” Shirabu started walking again, dragging Goshiki along with him. “I only do it because Tendou nags if I don’t. I would rather spend my time alone. With you.”

Goshiki was still uncertain about the Kindaichi situation, but it suddenly seemed like a less pressing problem. 

Shirabu genuinely wanted to spend time with him.

Goshiki relaxed as Shirabu led the way through the sparse streets, gradually regaining the sense of contentment that he’d lost outside of Plumage.

As they walked, he tried to scrape up some optimism. At least if someone had to see him with Shirabu, it had been Kindaichi. He’d always been the most understanding of Goshiki’s teammates. If it had been Koganegawa, Goshiki would’ve had a whole new set of problems. 

He supposed he would have those problems anyway, if Kindaichi told everyone.

A few minutes ago, Goshiki had been certain that he would. Now, after having a little time to think it over, he wasn’t so sure. Kindaichi always kept to himself. He wasn’t an instigator in any way, and he stayed out of everyone’s business. Maybe he would have the discretion to keep the identity of Goshiki’s date to himself.

And if he didn’t, Goshiki would get through it.

It was two-thirty when they reached Shirabu’s apartment, after fielding a handful of phone calls from Tendou demanding to know why they weren’t at the izakaya. Shirabu told him to mind his own business, and repeated the same message when Tendou tried calling Goshiki’s cell instead.

Goshiki felt a little guilty, but getting time alone with Shirabu was worth it. He could hang out with Tendou another time. It wasn’t as if he was abandoning him. Tendou still had Semi, and the other dancers. He wouldn’t miss them too much.

They sat in the floor, backs against the couch, sharing food from the takeout boxes they’d picked up on the way. Shirabu had started a movie that Goshiki had never heard of, but it was mostly background noise. Neither of them were watching it. Goshiki was too caught up in his thoughts, and Shirabu seemed to be distracted, as well.

When they finished eating, Shirabu gathered up the trash and carried it into the kitchen. Goshiki offered to help, but Shirabu waved him off. While he bustled around, Goshiki pulled his knees against his chest and rested his cheek on them, staring blankly at the tv.

He should have been thrilled to be in Shirabu’s apartment again. He was, to a degree, but he couldn’t completely focus on that. Half of his mind was still on the street with Kindaichi. 

When Shirabu returned, he dropped right back into the floor beside Goshiki, their shoulders brushing. He turned off the movie, and the sudden silence of the apartment was like a pressing weight. 

“What are you thinking about?” asked Shirabu quietly.

Goshiki wanted to lie, to keep from having to talk about it again, but he liked Shirabu too much to lie to him. He’d always been bad at it, anyway. “About my teammates finding out I’m… umm… gay.”

“Do you think Kindaichi will tell?”

“I don’t know. I hope not.” He thought over that, then sat up straight. “It’s not that I’m embarrassed about being seen with you! I don’t want you to think-”

“I don’t think that. Don’t worry about it.”

Goshiki sighed and slumped down again. “I sound pathetic. I should just tell them. It’s not like it’s a big deal.”

“Sometimes it is,” said Shirabu. His voice was low, but Goshiki was so close that he had no trouble hearing. “There’s nothing pathetic about it. Coming out isn’t always the solution. Sometimes it makes things worse.”

Goshiki sank lower, sliding half into the floor. “I don’t know.”

Shirabu leaned into him, and the weight of his shoulder pressing against Goshiki’s was comforting. The silence wasn’t awkward, or strained. Something about Shirabu’s presence was soothing.

“Do you know why I’m a dancer?” said Shirabu.

“Because you had dance lessons when you were younger,” said Goshiki immediately. He could have recited nearly everything Shirabu had ever said to him.

“That’s why I’m qualified, but not why I’m doing it.” He folded one leg beneath himself, turning closer into Goshiki. “I graduated top of my class at university. I was always good at school, if nothing else. I should have gotten a high-paying job immediately. Some of my classmates were complete idiots and they still got the jobs they wanted. Do you know why I didn’t?”

Goshiki considered that. “The economy?”

Shirabu rolled his eyes, but it was paired with an almost-smile, so Goshiki didn’t take it personally. “No. Not the economy.” His expression fell back into its default, the cut of his brows a little harder than usual. “I came out, when I was in college. I’d spent my entire life keeping it to myself and I didn’t want to do it anymore. I thought I was being bold, and staying true to myself, but it didn’t turn out well.” He frowned down at the floor between them. “My classmates were trying to get jobs in the same field, and they knew I was a better candidate, based on my grades. They spread my personal information around, to ruin my chances. No one in a high-level corporation wanted to hire someone like me, so I got rejected from every job I applied for. I had loans to pay, and bills, because my parents wouldn’t let me come back home. They weren’t happy with me, either. I saw a hiring notice for Plumage, and it was the best option I had.”

Goshiki held his breath as he listened, afraid to miss a single word.

“I got lucky. I didn’t think so at the time, but looking back, I know I did.” Shirabu fidgeted with his bangs, adjusting them to one side. “Not all clubs treat their dancers the way Ushijima-san does. I could’ve found myself in a bad situation easily, if I’d gone anywhere else.” He peered at Goshiki, who was still entranced. “The point is, I could be climbing my way up a corporate ladder somewhere, if I’d been more subtle. It turned out okay for me, but it doesn’t work for everyone. If you think staying in the closet for a while is the best thing for you, then do it. Don’t let some misplaced sense of guilt or obligation force you into coming out. Just look out for yourself.”

Goshiki swallowed. It hurt a little. 

Shirabu started to stand, but Goshiki caught his wrist. 

“Thank you, Shirabu-san,” he said quietly. He wanted to say more, but wasn’t sure what else to add. Goshiki had never had the opportunity to talk to anyone about this before. He’d never been given this type of advice. It meant more to him than he could put into words, so he only hoped Shirabu felt the strength of his gratitude.

Shirabu placed his hand over Goshiki’s, briefly, before pulling away to stand. “It’s late,” he said. “You can stay over, so you don’t have to walk back to campus at three in the morning.”

Goshiki blinked up at him. “Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. My bed is roomy.” He must have seen the shock on Goshiki’s face, because he added, “The couch is comfortable, too. Whatever you want.” He left to disappear through an adjacent doorway, one that Goshiki assumed was his bedroom.

Goshiki remained in the floor, thinking. 

Sleeping on the couch would be the courteous decision. He didn’t want to intrude in Shirabu’s personal space.

But Shirabu had suggested the bed first, as if that was where he assumed Goshiki would sleep. If he didn’t want Goshiki there, he wouldn’t have said it.

Goshiki peeled himself out of the floor and slowly trailed after him, sidling through the doorway. The bedroom was similar to the rest of the apartment; spacious, sparsely decorated, and immaculately clean. There was another doorway, and through it, Shirabu was washing the glitter off of his face.

Shirabu glimpsed him in the mirror over the sink. “I need to shower, but I won’t be long. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Umm… okay. Thank you, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu nodded at him and pushed the door half-closed. Still Goshiki could see part of the bathroom inside, as well as the bare span of Shirabu’s back when he pulled his shirt off. Goshiki immediately turned away, his face warming. It wasn’t as if he’d never seen that much of Shirabu, but it was different here, at his apartment. This was more intimate, more real. There was no show, no role for Shirabu to play, no buffer standing between them. Here, they were only themselves.

Goshiki wasn’t sure what to do, and he spent so much time dwelling over his indecision that Shirabu showered and reemerged before he’d worked up the nerve to do anything more than sit on the edge of Shirabu’s bed.

Shirabu rubbed a towel over his wet hair, raising a brow at Goshiki from the bathroom doorway. He wore only a pair of boxer briefs, and that was different, too. Goshiki had seen him in underwear, but it had always been fancy lingerie that he wore for dancing. Seeing him like this, casual, made Goshiki even more flustered.

“Is this how you act at home?” asked Shirabu. “You’re more hopeless than I thought.”

Goshiki tried to scrape together an excuse, but Shirabu didn’t wait for it. He draped the towel over his shoulders and stepped close, pulling at the perfect tuck of his bedsheets and turning them down.

“You can use anything you need in the bathroom,” said Shirabu. “Check under the sink. I might have an extra toothbrush.”

“Right!” said Goshiki, hopping to his feet. “Thank you, Shirabu-san.” He hustled into the bathroom and closed the door, because it was easier to think when Shirabu wasn’t looking at him.

The mirror was still foggy from Shirabu’s hot shower, but Goshiki didn’t need it anyway. He fumbled through the products in the cabinet beneath the sink and emerged with a still-packaged toothbrush. He used it, washed his face, and realized that he couldn’t sleep in Shirabu’s bed fully clothed.

He stared at his fuzzy reflection, uncertain. Obviously Shirabu was comfortable showing a lot of skin, but Goshiki had never liked strolling around nude, not even in the locker room when it was a normal thing to do. 

Goshiki didn’t look like Shirabu, or any of the other dancers at the club. He was fit from volleyball, but it was different. Maybe Shirabu would think he was unattractive. Maybe he would kick Goshiki out of his bed, if he saw how he looked under his clothes.

Goshiki shook his head and tried to clear those thoughts out of it. Shirabu wasn’t like that. Goshiki hadn’t learned everything about him, but he knew enough. Shirabu wouldn’t care how he looked.

Goshiki stripped off his shirt, folded it on the corner of the sink, and kicked out of his sweats. They were emblazoned with his team’s logo, just the way that Shirabu’s had been branded with Plumage’s. 

They were from two completely different worlds. It was a miracle Goshiki had ended up here.

He tugged at the edge of his boxers, hyperaware of how long and gangly his legs were. 

Shirabu’s were smooth and sculpted, as was the rest of him.

Goshiki bit his lip and almost put his pants back on, but gripped the edge of the sink to stop himself. He was overthinking this. He had a bad habit of doing that. He was just sleeping over. It wasn’t as if Shirabu would turn the lights on and inspect every inch of Goshiki’s body to see if it was up to his standards. They would just be sleeping. In the dark. Together.

Goshiki slapped a hand over his face. Somehow he always managed to make things worse.

Finally, after several more minutes of personal torture, Goshiki flipped off the bathroom light and eased his way back into the bedroom. It was dark, but the curtains had been pulled half-open, and the light from the city beyond cast a subtle glow into the room. Goshiki tiptoed over to the bed and hovered at the edge, squinting against the low light.

“Get in,” said Shirabu, shuffling over. “I’m cold.”

Goshiki obliged. He crawled into Shirabu’s bed, slipped beneath the sheets, and was greeted by harrowingly cold toes against his shins. He resisted the urge to flinch away and instead moved closer. Shirabu rolled against him, tangled his legs with Goshiki’s, and draped an arm over his waist. Goshiki went rigid with surprise, but Shirabu didn’t move, and he gradually began to relax.

Shirabu’s fingers tickled against Goshiki’s lower back. “Is this too much?”

“No,” said Goshiki, speaking into the hush of the room. “It’s not.”

“Good.” Shirabu shifted just a little closer and gave Goshiki a lingering look before closing his eyes. Goshiki did the same, because he thought it would be weird to lie there staring.

He knew when Shirabu fell asleep. His arm became heavier across Goshiki’s ribs and his breath dipped deeper. Cautiously, Goshiki opened his eyes again.

Semi had been right. Shirabu really did look like an angel.

Goshiki closed his eyes again, and when he fell asleep, it was with a smile on his face.

  
  
  
  
  
Goshiki woke up to a string of suggestive texts from Tendou, who somehow knew that he’d stayed over at Shirabu’s apartment. When Shirabu rolled over to check his phone, his eye roll suggested he’d received a similar barrage of messages.

Shirabu tossed his phone to the side and sat up, the sheets slipping down to gather at his waist. The light slanting through the window wasn’t the early light of morning. It was too harsh, and Goshiki thought it must have been at least noon. 

He realized his phone was still in his hand and checked the time to see that he’d been correct. On any other Saturday that would have meant he’d missed volleyball practice, but since they’d had a match the night before, coach had given them the day off. Goshiki put his phone aside and rolled back toward Shirabu.

“I can’t cook,” said Shirabu, “but I’ll order in something, if you’d like.”

“That’s okay. I’ll grab breakfast on the way to campus.”

Shirabu shrugged. “Do what you want. I wouldn’t mind if you stayed, though. I don’t have anything to do until work later.”

Goshiki chewed at his lip as he considered that. Of course he wanted to stay. He wanted to spend as much time with Shirabu as physically possible. He didn’t want to overstay his welcome, though. If they spent too much time together, Shirabu might get sick of him. Typically that would have happened already, in his experience, but it was still possible that-

“You’re thinking too hard again.” Shirabu flopped back down on the bed with a huff. “It’s not a trick question. Do you want to stay or not?”

“Well… yes, but-”

“But nothing. I’ll order food. What do you want?” He reached for his phone, and Goshiki pressed his smile into his borrowed pillow.

He spent several hours in Shirabu’s apartment, eating delivery from the restaurant down the street and watching episodes of a weird tv show that seemed to interest Shirabu. He didn’t feel unwelcome. He knew that if Shirabu really wanted him to leave, he was blunt enough to say so. That was something Goshiki liked about him. Goshiki wasn’t always the best at picking up on subtle social cues, so it was a relief to know that Shirabu said what he meant.

When Goshiki left at mid-afternoon, after a goodbye kiss that left him breathless, he expected to find Tendou in the hallway, waiting to tease him. But there was no one around, and he gave Shirabu one last wave before heading toward the elevator. The doors slid open before he reached it, and he was so startled by the appearance of a familiar face that it took him a moment to react.

“Semi-san, good morning!”

Semi raised a brow at him. A shopping back dangled from his wrist. “It’s three o’clock.”

“Oh. Right!”

Semi shook his head. He was smiling, just barely. “Satori will be mad that he missed this.” He patted Goshiki’s shoulder as he stepped past. “See you, Tsutomu.”

That was a much calmer farewell than he would’ve gotten from Tendou. “Bye, Semi-san!”

Goshiki hopped in the elevator, grinning as he descended. He was fairly sure this had been the best morning of his life.

  
  
  
  
  
Goshiki had been so caught up with Shirabu on Saturday that he only remembered the following morning, with a nauseating jolt of dread, that he had an early volleyball practice. That wasn’t the problem. He’d gone to early practices at least a couple of times a week since middle school.

The problem was that Kindaichi would be there too, and Goshiki didn’t know who he’d told about their run-in on Friday night.

Goshiki was worried, but that was eclipsed by guilt. No matter what Shirabu said, Goshiki still felt as if he was betraying him somehow, keeping their relationship a secret.

If it could even be called a relationship. There was something there, but Goshiki didn’t know what it was, or how to put a label on it. He just knew that he really liked Shirabu, and that Shirabu liked him back, and that if his teammates found out, he might lose his volleyball career before it even began.

His first step into the gym was like slipping off the edge of a high diving board. His stomach lurched, his muscles tensed, and he couldn’t breathe quite right as he slowly crept inside.

“Yo, Goshiki!”

Koganegawa’s voice carried, and Goshiki flinched.

“Hurry up and get changed, I wanna try a new quick set!”

Goshiki eyed him from across the gym, seeking any sort of underlying hostility and finding none. Koganegawa was as animated as ever. “Sure!” Goshiki called back. “One minute.”

“I’m timing you!”

Goshiki ignored that and retreated toward the locker room, passing several of his teammates on the way. They offered morning greetings, but nothing else. There was nothing new on their faces or in their voices that suggested they felt any different way about Goshiki.

He plopped down on the bench in front of his locker and wiped his clammy palms on the sides of his shorts. No one knew about Shirabu. Kindaichi hadn’t told them.

Yet.

A locker slapped open behind him and Goshiki nearly leapt off the bench. He twisted around to find Kindaichi stuffing his bag into his assigned locker. He spared a glance over his shoulder and said, “Morning, Goshiki.”

“Umm… good morning?”

Kindaichi stripped his shirt off and replaced it with one of the usual threadbare t-shirts he wore for practice. Goshiki was surprised. He’d assumed Kindaichi wouldn’t be willing to change in front of him, now that he knew Goshiki liked men. Goshiki had always been discreet enough that it had never happened to him, but he’d seen the reactions that some of his past teammates had gotten when it was suggested that they weren’t entirely heterosexual.

Kindaichi pushed the locker shut with his knee and turned to find Goshiki still staring at him. He blinked and said, “Umm, is everything okay?”

Goshiki continued to watch him. He couldn’t help it. Kindaichi was looking at him like nothing was wrong, like nothing had happened. It wasn’t what he’d expected at all.

“Are we, umm…” Goshiki broke off, struggling for words. “Are we good?”

“Why wouldn’t we be?”

Goshiki opened his mouth, failed to piece together a response, and shut it again.

“Because of Friday night?” asked Kindaichi after a moment.

Goshiki could only nod.

“I don’t care who you’re dating,” said Kindaichi. He shrugged as if he really meant it. “It’s not my business. As long as…” He gave Goshiki a sidelong look. “You are just… dating him, right?”

Goshiki frowned. “What does that mean?”

“I’m guessing he works at that place. That club.” Kindaichi checked over his shoulder, to make sure none of their teammates were around. “Sometimes at places like that, you can pay money to get… Things.”

It took Goshiki a minute too long to understand what he meant. When he did, his face caught fire. “No! He’s not… that’s not it. At all. Shirabu-san doesn’t do that. None of them do that. We haven’t even… I mean, it’s not… No!” Goshiki wanted to hide inside a locker to try and escape his embarrassment. “We’ve gone out together, but not like that. I haven’t paid him for it.” Not including the money he’d spent on dances when they’d first met. That was different. “It doesn’t have anything to do with his job.”

Kindaichi nodded. His own face held a little color, as if this conversation wasn’t comfortable for him, either. “Good. I mean, it’s not my business, I just… wanted to make sure he’s not taking advantage of you or anything.”

“Shirabu-san would never do that.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Goshiki hesitated, and added, “Have you… told anyone?”

“No. Like I said, it’s not my business.”

Goshiki sighed, and he felt as if he would melt beneath the pressure of his relief. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me. I’m happy you found someone.” He gave Goshiki an awkward pat on the back. “We should get out there soon or coach will be in here yelling.”

“Right!” Goshiki had almost forgotten where he was. He yanked open his bag and dug out his practice clothes, changing into them so quickly that he nearly got trapped in the collar of his shirt. By the time he emerged into the gym, his teammates were calling insults at him.

They were gentle ones though, about dragging his feet before practice. Nothing was mentioned about his Friday night, or his attendance at a gay club, or Shirabu.

Goshiki took a cleansing breath, exhaling his worries and fears like toxins into the air. He hitched on a smile, joined his teammates, and didn’t have a single negative thought throughout the entire span of practice.


	9. Chapter 9

Tendou and Semi spent a lot of time at Plumage. They both put in long nights on the weekends as dancers, and Semi worked as the club’s bartender during the week. Tendou was usually there with him, as far as Goshiki could tell, so it was difficult to think of them outside the context of the bar.

He discovered on Wednesday that the two of them actually had lives that didn’t revolve around Plumage.

“Check this one out!” said Tendou, shoving his phone in front of Goshiki’s face. “It’s my favorite. Look how graceful Semi-Semi is.”

“Satori, if you don’t stop showing people that video-”

Tendou waved him off, watching intently over Goshiki’s shoulder.

Goshiki was at Tendou’s apartment, which he’d discovered was Semi’s apartment, also. It shouldn’t have surprised him that they lived together, considering everything else he’d learned about the two of them.

On the video, Semi was wrapped up in red aerial silks, slowly descending in a nimble spin. He was a picture of poise. At least, until he got to the end, realized he’d ran out of silks, and fell the remaining two yards onto the floor.

Tendou’s cackle was loud in Goshiki’s ear. He tapped at the screen to replay the video, but Semi stomped over and slapped the phone out of his hand.

“As if you don’t fall all the fucking time,” snapped Semi. “It’s worse when you do it. You’re supposed to be a professional.”

“But the look on your face!”

Semi growled a threat, and Goshiki wondered if he should slip away before he got caught in the crossfire. 

As quickly as Semi had snapped, he regained his composure, dropping onto the end of the couch beside Goshiki. “Tell me if he gets on your nerves. I’ll kick him out.”

“I live here too,” protested Tendou.

“The offer still stands.” Semi tossed the remote across Goshiki, where Tendou caught it easily. “Start the movie. Maybe you’ll stop running your mouth when you have something to distract you.”

“You know that’s never worked,” said Tendou, grinning as he turned on the tv.

Goshiki had been invited over to their apartment for movie night. It seemed to be a tradition for the pair of them, since Wednesday was the only consistent night of the week that neither of them worked. 

The opening scene splashed across the tv screen and Tendou whipped his phone out again. “We need a group picture!” he said, cramming closer to Goshiki. “Lean over, Semi-Semi.”

Semi sighed, but gave in. Clearly he was a man who’d learned to choose his battles. He pressed close to Goshiki’s other shoulder, hitching on a half-smile as Tendou snapped the picture. 

“Perfect!” said Tendou. He tapped at his phone, and Goshiki resisted the urge to glance over and see what he was doing.

The movie was a horror film, which wasn’t Goshiki’s favorite genre, but he didn’t complain. He didn’t know why Tendou and Semi wanted him there when they could be alone instead, but he was happy to be included. 

He’d braced himself for blood and gore, but it wasn’t as bad as he’d thought. If it hadn’t been for the jump scares, he may have enjoyed it. 

The third time he nearly leapt off the couch, Semi crawled halfway into his lap to snatch the remote away from Tendou. “We’re not watching this,” he said, retreating back to his end of the couch. “Tsutomu doesn’t like it.”

“Of course he does!” said Tendou. “Right, Tsutomu?”

“It’s fine, Semi-san, really!”

Semi ignored both of them and stopped the movie. “What do you actually like?”

“Anything! I’m not picky. We can finish this one, it’s not-”

“Here.” Semi pressed the remote into his hand. “Pick something else. Anything you want. Shut up, Satori.”

Tendou snapped his mouth shut. He hadn’t even said anything yet.

After a few more minutes of convincing, Goshiki chose a different movie and they settled in again. Tendou inched close to whisper, “Sorry, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki shook his head. “No, it’s fine! I don’t mind the other one, I’m not-”

“I’ll kick both of you out and watch the movie by myself,” said Semi flatly.

Goshiki clamped his mouth shut. He felt a little guilty, until he noticed the slight smile on Semi’s face.

The evening went smoothly after that. Occasionally Tendou would nudge Goshiki to make a comment about the movie, and every now and then Semi told him to shut up, but that seemed to be their normal way of interacting. They seemed comfortable, and Goshiki found himself relaxing, too.

When about half an hour of the movie remained, there was a knock at the door. Before any of them could move, the visitor pushed his way inside without invitation, stopping in the doorway to stare at them.

Goshiki’s heart flipped when Shirabu’s eyes landed on him.

“Did Tendou kidnap you?” asked Shirabu. “I can’t imagine you would be here on purpose.”

“Don’t be so mean, Kenji-kun,” said Tendou. He draped an arm around Goshiki’s shoulders with a grin. “Tsutomu likes it here. We’re good company.”

Shirabu raised a brow, but didn’t otherwise react. He’d clearly just left work; he was dressed in sweats, hood pulled over his hair, a faint glimmer of glitter sticking to his lashes. 

“It’s only nine,” said Semi. “Slow night?”

“Yes. It was my turn to leave early.”

“You’ll earn enough Friday to make up for it,” said Semi. “Enjoy the time off.”

Shirabu dipped his head, just slightly, before his attention returned to Goshiki. “You should come over, when you’re finished with…” he trailed off, eyeing the mess of snacks strewn across the coffee table. “…whatever this is. I’ll leave the door unlocked.” Without waiting for an answer, he slipped back into the hallway, kicking the door shut behind him.

“How romantic,” said Tendou drily. “You really know how to pick them, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki didn’t answer. He was too busy trying to keep himself from blushing.

“Shut up,” said Semi for the fifteenth time. “You can’t say shit about being romantic. The first thing you ever said to me was ‘ _nice ass, come here often_?’”

Tendou shrugged, shameless. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“No, it fucking didn’t. I avoided you for an entire month. Which wasn’t easy, considering we worked at Plumage together.”

“You came around, though. I’m irresistible.”

“No, I think I’m just stupid.”

Their bickering drowned out the movie, but Goshiki didn’t mind. He was thinking too hard about Shirabu to pay attention anyway. That was nothing new. He thought about Shirabu a lot, more than he probably should. They’d only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks. Goshiki wasn’t even sure if they were dating. But he did know that he wanted to. He wanted a lot of things with Shirabu.

“I’m surprised he didn’t show up sooner,” said Tendou, when their argument had dissolved. “I expected him five minutes after I sent the picture.”

“The… what?” said Goshiki.

Tendou pulled out his phone and showed him the picture he’d taken of the three of them. There was nothing objectively wrong with it, but the caption he’d added set Goshiki’s face aflame.

“Huh,” said Tendou, studying him with a tilt of his head. “Maybe you’re not as innocent as I thought. I didn’t think you’d get it.”

“Satori, you absolute asshole-”

Tendou and Semi started on each other again, and Goshiki sat back against the couch, wishing he could sink straight through it. 

At least Shirabu was used to Tendou’s behavior. He wouldn’t have taken it seriously.

By the time Tendou and Semi tapered off again – and Goshiki wondered if this was what it was like to have argumentative parents – the movie had lapsed into the end credits. Semi turned it off and said, “Want to watch another one, Tsutomu?”

“Oh, umm… I should probably go now,” said Goshiki. “Thank you for asking me over though!"

“Of course you want to go now.” Tendou leered at him, his fingers dancing at the back of Goshiki’s hair. “Suddenly you have somewhere better to be.”

“That’s not-”

“Satori,” snapped Semi.

Tendou rolled his eyes. “I’m just joking with him. It’s probably for the best that you leave anyway, Tsutomu. I’m about to have my way with Semi-Semi on this very couch, and you don’t seem like the kind of guy who’s into voyeurism.”

Semi’s lip curled in disgust. “You are fucking not.”

“We’ll see about that,” said Tendou with a wink.

Goshiki peeled himself off of the couch, eager to escape the sudden blanket of tension between them. “I’ll, umm… I’ll just leave, then. Thank you for the movie night! I had a good time.”

“What’s ours is yours,” said Tendou, although he didn’t look away from Semi. “Come over anytime.”

Semi didn’t argue, which must have meant he agreed.

“Thank you, Tendou-san, Semi-san.” Goshiki offered them a quick little bow before heading to the door and scooping his shoes out of the floor. He spared one last glance over his shoulder before exiting into the hallway, and wished he hadn’t. Semi had lunged at Tendou, hands fisted in the front of his shirt, pinning him down on the couch. Their posture looked like they were about to fight, but their faces said otherwise.

Goshiki tried to shake the image out of his head as he crossed the hall to Shirabu’s apartment.

Shirabu had said he would leave the door unlocked, which sounded like an invitation for Goshiki to come in of his own volition. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to barge in without knocking.

At least, not until he’d stood on the doorstep for five minutes and no one answered.

Hesitantly, he twisted the knob and popped his head inside. The lights were on, but Shirabu was nowhere in sight. 

Goshiki slipped in and put his shoes aside, standing awkwardly just past the threshold. He cleared his throat and called, “Shirabu-san?”

Distantly, Shirabu’s voice echoed back. “I’m in here.”

Goshiki felt like an intruder as he paced through the apartment, despite the invitation, despite that he’d been there before. He considered plopping down on the couch and waiting for Shirabu to emerge, but he didn’t know how long that would take, and he wanted to see him now.

Shirabu wasn’t in the bedroom, but the adjoining door was open, giving Goshiki a glimpse of Shirabu’s bare back. He was leaning close to the mirror, scrubbing his face clean, bangs pushed back by a cloth headband. His sweatpants rode low, exposing a slice of the wine red lace beneath.

Suddenly Goshiki couldn’t breathe. He should’ve waited on the couch.

Shirabu wiped his face with a towel and caught Goshiki’s eye in the mirror. “You could’ve stayed with them longer. I wasn’t trying to make you leave.”

It took Goshiki a few seconds to find his voice. “The movie was over. I think they wanted me to go anyway, they were getting, umm… aggressive.”

Shirabu snorted. “When they argue like that, it’s basically foreplay. They’re freaks.”

Goshiki chose not to think too much about that. “And I wanted to see you, anyway.”

Shirabu pushed a hand through his hair, displacing the headband and tossing it aside. His bangs flopped down over his forehead. “I would invite you to stay over tonight, but I’m guessing you have class tomorrow?”

“Not until noon.” Goshiki’s eyes followed the curve of Shirabu’s spine as he leaned close to the mirror again, squinting at his reflection. “It’s my late day.”

“In that case,” said Shirabu, straightening, “do you want to stay over?”

Goshiki nodded before he’d even finished the question. “Yes. Please.”

He’d spent the night there on Friday, and hadn’t expected another invitation so soon. It was the best sort of surprise, the kind that left a pleasant buzz in his veins. 

“I need to shower,” said Shirabu. He tucked his thumbs into the loose waistband of his sweats. “Do whatever you want. There’s food in the kitchen, if you want anything.”

“That’s okay, I ate with Tendou-san and…” 

There had been a full sentence weighing on his tongue, but it fractured into silence as Shirabu stripped off his pants. He was wearing nothing but the lace, and even the harsh glare of the bathroom lights did nothing to tarnish his appeal. He looked as good beneath the blinding fluorescents as he did under the multi-colored lights of the Plumage stage.

“I always knew this one was your favorite,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki snapped his eyes up to Shirabu’s face. “Huh?”

Shirabu trailed a finger along the edge of the lace. “You seem to like this one best. You get a look on your face. _That_ look.”

Goshiki nearly panicked, because he didn’t want Shirabu thinking he was a creep, but that didn’t seem to be the direction of Shirabu’s thoughts. “I, umm… That’s what you were wearing the first time I saw you.”

Shirabu tilted his head, just barely. “Do you like it better than the white?”

Goshiki nodded.

“Good,” said Shirabu. “I’ll be sure to tell Semi-san. I don’t care what he says, I think I look better in dark colors.”

“You look good in everything.” 

They watched each other, the moment dragging. Goshiki took an awkward step back. “I’ll just, umm… wait for you on the couch. Take your time, I’m not-”

“Tsutomu.”

The sound of his name in Shirabu’s voice made Goshiki pause. Shirabu approached, his bare feet pale against the dark tile. He went up on his toes and slipped an arm around Goshiki’s neck, pulling him in. Just before their lips met he stopped, breath warm on Goshiki’s mouth, hazel eyes hooded.

“You can stay in here,” said Shirabu, his voice low. “I’m not shy.”

Goshiki’s mind went completely blank. He tried to stammer a response, but Shirabu’s mouth silenced him.

It wasn’t the first time he’d kissed Shirabu. He’d done it before, often enough that he thought he’d won some sort of lottery. It was nothing new, but something about it was different. 

Shirabu didn’t start slow. He kissed Goshiki with purpose, slipping between his lips and licking into his mouth, a hand curling into the back of Goshiki’s hair. Goshiki was pushed back and his shoulders thumped against the wall. He was pinned in place by Shirabu’s heat, by the hand on his shoulder and the jut of a hip. Shirabu kissed him until he was breathless, until the room spun beyond his closed eyelids, until he couldn’t ignore the pressure in the front of his pants.

“Shirabu-san.” It was more of a gasp than a voice. Goshiki pulled back, his head thumping against the wall. “I think we should stop.”

Shirabu didn’t move. His thumb brushed against Goshiki’s neck. “Why?”

“Because I, umm…”

“Because of this?” Shirabu rolled his hips and Goshiki sucked a breath through his teeth. 

“I… uh… yes?”

Shirabu blinked up at him, slowly. “Sure, we can stop.” His hand slipped off of Goshiki’s shoulder, down to his chest. “Or I could take care of that for you.”

“You know I’ve never, umm… Never done anything.”

“I know.” Shirabu’s hand lingered, and fell away as he took a step back. “It’s fine. I told you before to do things at your own pace.” He pushed a hand through his hair, glanced at himself in the mirror, and started toward the shower. 

“Shirabu-san?”

Shirabu paused with a hand pressed against the glass shower door. “What?”

“I’ve never done anything but I… I kind of… want to.”

Shirabu flicked a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not trying to pressure you.”

“I know.” Goshiki didn’t feel pressured at all. He knew if he didn’t want to do this, Shirabu would back off. He wouldn’t try and make Goshiki feel guilty. He was a good person, despite what he may say about himself. “That’s not why I want to, I just… want to.”

Shirabu turned, slowly, and bridged the short distance between them. He stopped in front of Goshiki, close enough that Goshiki could see his individual eyelashes, but far enough to give him breathing room.

Shirabu studied him, perfectly at ease despite his near nudity. “Only if you’re sure.”

Goshiki nodded, but that didn’t seem to be good enough.

Shirabu frowned. “If Tendou said something that made you think about this, ignore it. He wasn’t serious.”

“He didn’t say anything.” Goshiki tried to push all thoughts of Tendou out of his head. There was only space in his thoughts for Shirabu. “I was nervous before, and I still am, but… but I want to.”

“What exactly do you want to do?”

Goshiki swallowed. He couldn’t look away from the intensity of Shirabu’s eyes. “Anything. Everything. I just want you, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu moved closer. His hand was hot on Goshiki’s wrist, tracing a path up to his shoulder and perching there. “I won’t push you into anything.” His other hand slipped beneath the hem of Goshiki’s shirt, fingers curling into the edge of his jeans. “If you want to stop, tell me.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me. We’re not doing anything until you do.”

Goshiki nodded, hyperaware of Shirabu’s fingertips against his hip. “I promise.”

Shirabu thumbed at the button of Goshiki’s jeans. It popped open, but he went no further. “We’ll start with this. We can stop there, if you want. Or do more afterward. Whatever you decide.” He dragged down the zipper of Goshiki’s pants, slowly, as if giving him a chance to protest. 

Goshiki said nothing, and a minute later, his jeans had been discarded in a pile. He was still more dressed than Shirabu, but that didn’t stop his embarrassment. 

Shirabu seemed to pick up on it. He stepped away to kill the glaring lights above the sink, leaving only a soft glow from the muted bulbs overhead. “Better?”

Goshiki released a breath. “Yes.”

Shirabu dipped his fingers into the waistband of Goshiki’s boxers, hesitated. “Remember to tell me if you want to stop. I won’t be mad.”

“Okay.”

Shirabu seemed to consider his level of candor. Apparently he was satisfied, because he sank to his knees, pulling at Goshiki’s boxers as he descended. 

Goshiki squeezed his hands into fists to stop himself from grabbing at his clothes. He was embarrassed to be naked in front of Shirabu, but the thrum of desire heating his blood was stronger than his uncertainty.

Shirabu didn’t seem surprised to find that Goshiki was already rock hard. He grazed his hands up Goshiki’s calves, over his knees, and stopped at his bare thighs. He tilted his head, as calm as ever, to look up at Goshiki. “Tell me when you’re close. I don’t swallow.”

“O-okay, sure, I’ll-”

Shirabu’s lips closed around the head of his cock, and Goshiki lost all knowledge of spoken language. 

Goshiki had never done anything like this, so he had no basis of comparison. Still, he was completely convinced within the first five seconds that Shirabu was an expert.

Shirabu’s mouth had been hot when they’d kissed, but it was even hotter now, sinking farther down Goshiki’s cock, tongue working as he descended. He pulled back and dipped lower, taking even more of Goshiki, who couldn’t have formed a rational thought if his life was at stake.

The slide of Shirabu’s mouth – up and down, up and down – was a scorching metronome, demanding every scrap of Goshiki’s attention. He could think of nothing else, as if the world had shrank down to encompass only the two of them. If a tornado had torn through the apartment, Goshiki thought he wouldn’t have noticed it. 

It didn’t take long for the pressure to reach its summit. Goshiki had jerked off enough to know the exact instant that he was on the precipice of _too much_. It took every bit of willpower he had to reach out, unsteady fingers slipping through Shirabu’s hair.

“Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu pulled off, wiping a string of saliva away from his mouth. Goshiki didn’t have to say anything else; Shirabu understood.

“Take your shirt off,” said Shirabu. He rose from the floor, his knees red from friction, and turned away to slide open the shower door.

Goshiki did as he said, all reservations about his nudity banished. 

When Shirabu deemed the water to be at a suitable temperature, he stripped off the lace, kicked it to the side, and stepped into the shower. Goshiki stared at him through the glass panes. The view was slightly distorted by the texture, but it was clear enough that he hoped this was the memory he would carry to his grave.

Shirabu tipped his head into the spray, trails of water snaking down his neck, cutting across his shoulders, and dripping down to the cut of his hips.

“There’s room for both of us,” said Shirabu.

Goshiki nearly tripped in his haste to join him. He stepped into the rising heat of the shower and slid the door shut, only to be immediately pinned against it. Shirabu’s hands were on him, his thumb brushing over the head of Goshiki’s cock before he started stroking. 

Goshiki had already been so close that it had been overwhelming. Now, with Shirabu wet and bare in front of him, he couldn’t hold it back. He pressed his lips together, trying to choke back a whine as he came. Shirabu’s nimble fingers danced over him, drawing out every spasm, sliding along in the threads of come.

Goshiki took a shuddering breath of steamy air and barely kept himself upright. His legs felt weak. He wanted nothing more than to sink down to the floor. 

But Shirabu was still there, going up on his toes to kiss him again, and Goshiki pushed past the haze in his brain to kiss him back. He curled his hands around Shirabu’s hips and melted into him. Shirabu sucked at Goshiki’s lip and pulled away, dipping his head to graze a wet mouth along Goshiki’s neck.

Another whine rose in Goshiki’s throat, and he couldn’t completely swallow it.

“We can stop now, if you want,” said Shirabu. There was a spark in his eyes, a glint of smugness that suggested he could see Goshiki’s thoughts playing about his face. “I don’t want to push.”

Goshiki stared at him. His brain was still floating in a fog of pleasure. “What if I don’t want to stop?”

Shirabu’s mouth curled into a smile. “Then we can do something else.”

Goshiki was naïve at times. He knew that, as badly as he wished it wasn’t true. Still, he wasn’t naïve enough to not know what Shirabu meant. It was perfectly clear in the gleam of his eyes, in the suggestive way he trailed his hands down his own chest, pretending it was for the sake of cleanliness. 

Goshiki knew exactly what he meant, and he couldn’t think of a single thing he wanted more. “Okay.”

Shirabu’s smile pulled a little higher. He ducked his hair beneath the water again and said, “Take a few minutes to recover, then. I need to wash my hair.”

“Sure.” Goshiki reached for the shower door, but Shirabu grabbed his wrist.

“You can stay.” He dropped Goshiki’s arm and slipped back beneath the spray, arching his back as he carded his hands through his hair, putting the lean curves of his body on perfect display. “If you want.”

Goshiki sent a silent prayer of gratitude to all the gods he’d ever heard of.

  
  
  
  
  
Shirabu was clearly a man who respected cleanliness, so it was no surprise he had a strict post-work routine. It took much more time than Goshiki’s usual three-minute showers, but he didn’t mind the wait. It meant more time for him to watch Shirabu and devote the sight of him to memory.

It gave Goshiki a chance to recover from the pleasant haze that Shirabu had left him with, and when they finally made it to Shirabu’s bed, Goshiki’s mind was completely clear. 

Too clear, because when that clarity returned, so did his nerves.

“We don’t have to,” said Shirabu. He was sitting on his knees near the edge of the bed, head tilted to one side as he studied Goshiki. “Really.”

Goshiki buried his face in one of Shirabu’s pillows. He was stretched out on his stomach, because he felt less exposed that way. “I want to.”

“You don’t look like you want to.”

“I’m… nervous. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to.”

“Tsutomu.” Shirabu traced a light trail from Goshiki’s shoulder, down to his hip, and back again. “It doesn’t have to be actual sex. We can do something else.”

Goshiki raised his head to peer up at Shirabu. He knew his face was red; he could feel it. “But I want to do it. I’m ready. I just…” He trailed off and buried his face again, voice growing muffled. “I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Shirabu’s hand stalled, lingering at Goshiki’s lower back. “I’ll take care of you, if you’re sure.”

Goshiki nodded, still hidden.

The bed dipped as Shirabu crawled away. There was a rustling somewhere nearby, but Goshiki’s embarrassment outweighed his curiosity. 

Another shuffle indicated Shirabu was returning, but still Goshiki jumped when there was a light touch at his shoulder.

“Tsutomu?”

“Yes?”

“Look at me.”

Goshiki would have preferred to remain buried, but he did as he was told. He blinked a few times, confused, until he realized Shirabu had cut off the lamp. The only light remaining bled in from the open bathroom door, casting them in a low, soothing glow.

Shirabu was beside him, legs tucked beneath him, as flawless as ever. He slipped a hand through Goshiki’s hair, pushing it away from his forehead. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know,” said Goshiki, despite his uncertainty. He appreciated the sentiment, but he was positive it would hurt at least a little. He didn’t think it was preventable.

Shirabu frowned down at him. “We can switch if you want. I don’t usually bottom but-”

“No!” Goshiki did not want him to finish that sentence. Actually doing this would be less embarrassing than talking about it first. “Let’s do it this way. It’s fine. Really.”

Shirabu sighed, but didn’t argue. “Okay.” He slipped his fingers out of Goshiki’s hair, tracing a trail down his spine, stopping before he went too low. “It feels better if you relax.”

Goshiki gritted his teeth. “I’m relaxed.”

Shirabu huffed, so quietly that Goshiki barely heard it. “Sure you are.” 

Goshiki buried his face in the pillow again. It seemed easier that way.

Shirabu moved, his bare leg brushing against Goshiki’s. They were both still naked, but that didn’t give Goshiki much comfort. Shirabu was so physically perfect that it should have been a crime. Goshiki was nothing in comparison, and he didn’t know why Shirabu even wanted him here. Shirabu could have anyone he wanted, he could-

A hand slipped between Goshiki’s legs, reaching beneath him to smooth over his cock, and Goshiki’s train of thought fractured. Shirabu’s thumb stroked over him, slowly, and it took an embarrassingly short amount of time for him to swell to hardness again, considering he’d just gotten off half an hour ago.

The gentle touches sapped away his tension, leaving him loose and calm.

At least, until a slippery finger pressed against him.

Goshiki went taut, hands digging into the sheets, jaw clenching. Somewhere behind him, Shirabu sighed. 

“I said I won’t hurt you.” Shirabu didn’t pull away. He kept his hand moving slowly over Goshiki’s cock. That finger still pressed against him, rubbing gently. “Don’t you trust me?”

Goshiki nodded and mumbled an affirmative into the pillow. 

“Just try and relax.” Shirabu’s voice was a low murmur. “I’ll go slow.”

Goshiki mumbled something else, so garbled that even he wasn’t sure what he was trying to say. He hugged the pillow against his face and exhaled a hot breath into it, trying to make himself unwind. It was difficult, especially when Shirabu started easing his way inside. Goshiki focused on the pull of Shirabu’s hand instead, lightly dragging from the base of his cock to the tip and back again. He was still a little sensitive from the first orgasm, but that only made the feeling more intense. He wondered how many times he could get off in one night, with Shirabu around.

He didn’t realize that Shirabu had completely slipped a finger inside him until it started moving around, curling a little, sliding in and out at a slow pace. 

It didn’t hurt, like Shirabu had promised, and it wasn’t as unpleasant as Goshiki had expected. It was odd, foreign, but not undesirable.

“Good,” murmured Shirabu, massaging his thumb just below the head of Goshiki’s cock. “Stay relaxed like that. You’re doing good.”

Goshiki shivered, just barely. He didn’t think it was noticeable, but Shirabu must have picked up on it.

Of course he exploited it.

Shirabu hummed to himself, thoughtful. His finger kept moving in a slow glide, in and out. “You’re doing so well, Tsutomu,” he said, voice dipping lower. “I knew you would. I’ve thought about this, when I’ve been here alone. When I imagined it, you always did so well.”

Goshiki seized a double grip of the pillow and pressed his face further into it, muffling a whine. He tried not to react, but he couldn’t help it. There was something about hearing those sorts of compliments, especially in Shirabu’s voice, that made him a little bit desperate.

Shirabu stroked over his cock again, his thumb smearing a bead of precome. “I like how you get hard for me so easy,” said Shirabu. His voice was low, nearly a whisper. 

This time Goshiki’s whine dipped into a moan. Another finger squeezed into him alongside the first, and although Goshiki felt the stretch, he was too lost to Shirabu’s voice to notice.

“I like the way you watch me, too,” said Shirabu. He shifted to press a kiss on the back of Goshiki’s thigh. His lips lingered. “When I dance. If you’re there, you’re the only person I can think about. If I have to dance for someone else, I pretend it’s you.”

Goshiki sucked in a breath as Shirabu’s fingers pushed deeper. There was such a twisted gnarl of emotions burning in his chest that he couldn’t be sure exactly how he felt. The only one he could pinpoint for sure was desperate desire. 

“Shirabu-san,” he said, as a buzzing pulse of heat raced to his groin. “Stop… stop touching me. I’m afraid I’ll…”

He trailed off, but Shirabu knew what he meant. His hand slipped away from Goshiki’s cock, and though he felt bereft without that lingering touch, it was a relief. He couldn’t come again so soon. He didn’t want Shirabu to think he was an overeager virgin, even if it was the truth.

Although Shirabu released his cock, his fingers remained buried. “Do you want me to stop everything?”

Goshiki shook his head. “No. You can keep… keep doing that.”

“Does it feel okay?”

“Yes. It’s weird, but yes.”

“You’ll get used to it.” Shirabu kissed Goshiki’s thigh again. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Goshiki made a small sound that was almost lost in the pillow.

Even without the distraction of Shirabu’s hand on his cock, Goshiki didn’t tense up again. The worst of his anxiety had passed, and Shirabu’s occasional murmurs melted him even more. Goshiki could have stayed like that all night, cherishing the attention.

When Shirabu slipped his fingers out, Goshiki made a muffled noise of protest.

“You’re ready,” said Shirabu. 

Goshiki sucked in a breath and Shirabu’s hand was immediately on him again, stroking down the back of his thigh in a smooth, soothing motion. 

“It’ll feel just the same,” said Shirabu. “I’ll take care of you.”

Goshiki forced himself to unclench his fists where they’d curled around the edge of the pillow. “Right. Okay.”

He didn’t turn to see what Shirabu was doing. He kept his head down and his breathing steady, because despite the dregs of worry, he did trust Shirabu. He trusted him more than anyone.

“Do you want to stay like that,” said Shirabu, “or flip over?”

“Like this.” Goshiki didn’t think he could do this without hiding his face.

“Alright.” Shirabu pressed a palm at the base of Goshiki’s spine and slowly dragged it upward, smoothing away a little of the tension. “Tell me if you want to stop.”

He’d said that already, more than once, but hearing it again was a relief. Goshiki had thought about sex often, and the idea of it had always left him uneasy. Not because he doubted he would enjoy it, but because he didn’t know how any potential partners would treat him. He’d heard too many stories of overbearing partners who took what they wanted, regardless of anyone else’s feelings or needs. He’d always been afraid he would find himself in a similar situation. 

He was lucky that he’d found Shirabu instead.

Shirabu took it slow, the same way he’d done everything else. He eased into Goshiki gradually, still tracing a delicate trail along the length of his spine. It was more pressure than his fingers had offered, but it wasn’t painful, as Goshiki had feared. He felt only the tug of the stretch, and when he thought it would be too much, Shirabu paused to let him adjust.

When Shirabu finally stopped, Goshiki relaxed even more, relieved. He’d been fighting back the fear that he wouldn’t be able to take it, that he would have to ask Shirabu to stop. But as Shirabu had promised, there was nothing bad about this. Goshiki felt full, but it wasn’t unpleasant. He liked it, liked having Shirabu so close.

“Are you good?” asked Shirabu. His hand traveled up to comb through Goshiki’s hair. He was warm on top of Goshiki, warm _inside_ of him.

“Yes,” said Goshiki. “I’m good.” 

He meant it, and Shirabu accepted the assurance with a gentle roll of his hips. He kept his thrusts shallow, at first. He pulled halfway out and sank back in, so slowly that Goshiki shivered and pushed back against him. 

Shirabu lowered himself, his breath hot against Goshiki’s ear. “Do you know how good you feel, Tsutomu?” He gave another careful thrust. “Do you know how much I think about you?”

If Goshiki hadn’t already tallied up one orgasm for the night, he may have came from those words alone. He crammed his face into the pillow to mute his moan, but Shirabu didn’t seem satisfied with that. His fingers slipped beneath Goshiki’s face, carefully turning it to the side.

“Don’t,” said Shirabu. He rocked his hips against Goshiki. “I want to hear you.”

“Shirabu-sa- _ahh_ …” His voice tapered into a groan as Shirabu thrust into him, still cautiously. 

“I’m going to go faster,” said Shirabu. He braced a hand beside Goshiki’s shoulder. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

“O-okay.” 

Shirabu dipped his head to leave a kiss at the edge of Goshiki’s jaw, then pulled back and thrust into him harder. The impact didn’t hurt, but it stole Goshiki’s breath, leaving him scrabbling for purchase against the sheets. Shirabu gave him a few seconds to recover, and when Goshiki didn’t protest, he started grinding into him with more force.

Goshiki was lost in sensation, but none of it was pain. There was a touch of pressure, but it was overshadowed by pulses of desire, of sizzling bliss as the force of Shirabu’s hips pressed him into the bed. Goshiki’s cock rubbed against the sheets, and despite the raw friction, it sent a thrill of pleasure buzzing to his fingertips.

He didn’t realize he was moaning until it was too late, and the sound that Shirabu made in his ear left Goshiki incapable of embarrassment. 

“Tsutomu.” His voice scraped lower than Goshiki had heard it, the syllables rolling dark and sweet. “You feel so good, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki almost turned his face into the pillow, but remembered what Shirabu had said. When he moaned again, he did it shamelessly, and the deep roll of Shirabu’s hips was like a reward.

“You’re so good,” said Shirabu. He shifted his weight, slipped a hand beneath Goshiki to grasp at his cock. “You’re so good, Tsutomu. You’re doing so good.”

Goshiki’s next sound was more of a whine. “Shirabu-san…” He tried to wriggle away from Shirabu’s hand, but had nowhere to go.

“You’re okay,” said Shirabu. He lightly nipped at Goshiki’s ear. “You don’t have to hold it back. Come when you want.” He twisted his wrist, and despite what he said, Goshiki bit his lip and fought to keep his orgasm at bay.

Shirabu thrust in again, striking at a different angle, and the battle was lost.

Goshiki came with a shout that would have embarrassed him, if he hadn’t been so lost in the thrall of Shirabu. The pleasure seized him from the inside out, more potent than usual, leaving him a shuddering mess even as he came across Shirabu’s fingers. Shirabu slowed his thrusts, gradually scraping to a stop as Goshiki wound down. When he pulled out, Goshiki felt hollow, as if part of himself had been pared away.

Shirabu sat back on his knees, peeling off the condom and tossing it to the side. He was still hard, and Goshiki pushed through his exhaustion to roll himself upright. 

“Do you want me to…?” Goshiki thought it was bad manners to stare at Shirabu’s cock, but he couldn’t help glancing at it. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

“Wait!” Goshiki seized Shirabu’s arm before he could shuffle off. “I want to help you, too. Tell me what to do.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” said Goshiki. He stared up at Shirabu, earnest. “Please.”

Shirabu looked at him for a moment that felt like an eternity. Goshiki’s hand fell away from his wrist, and Shirabu stretched out beside him. “Come here.”

Goshiki rolled into him, and Shirabu’s arm slipped around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss. His other hand sought out Goshiki’s, guiding it down, arranging Goshiki’s fingers around his cock. Shirabu’s tongue rubbed against Goshiki’s as he moved their hands, encouraging Goshiki to stroke him. 

That was all the direction Goshiki needed. Shirabu’s hand fell away, but Goshiki kept pumping him. His orgasm had left him so pleasantly cloudy that he didn’t even feel awkward about touching Shirabu like that. 

Shirabu kissed him deeply, hands roaming down to Goshiki’s ass, squeezing gently. He broke away from Goshiki’s mouth just long enough to whisper, “Faster.”

Goshiki obliged, increasing the pace of his hand, whining into Shirabu’s mouth when he felt his cock twitch beneath his fingers.

Shirabu sucked in a breath, hips kicking off the bed. “Just like that.” He still spoke quietly, voice raspy in a way that would have gotten Goshiki instantly hard if he hadn’t been drained. “Just keep… yes… _Tsutomu_.” His grip went tight enough to sting. It was the first pain Goshiki had felt all night, but he didn’t mind. He was so entranced by the look on Shirabu’s face – his head thrown back, mouth slightly open, eyes slammed shut – that he hardly noticed. 

When Shirabu spilled across his hand, it caught Goshiki by surprise. He slowed his strokes, hot come pooling between his fingers, until Shirabu’s tense muscles melted. Goshiki released him and stared down at his hand, uncertain.

“Just wipe it on the sheets,” said Shirabu. He didn’t even open his eyes. “I’ll have to change them anyway.”

Goshiki did as he was told, although he felt guilty about leaving a mess.

Silence bloomed between them. Goshiki’s blissful haze began to fade, replaced by concern. He waited for Shirabu to say something, anything, but he seemed content to lie there and bask in the quiet. When he couldn’t take the pressure anymore, Goshiki cleared his throat and said, “Umm, Shirabu-san? Was that okay? If I did anything wrong I didn’t mean to, I just-”

“Shut up, Tsutomu.” 

Normally, Goshiki would have shrank away from that phrase. But he’d heard it so often in Semi’s voice, paired with a surprising fondness, that it didn’t hold the same bite as it used to. When Shirabu opened his eyes, it was clear that he’d meant it in the same way Semi always did, when he was talking to Tendou. Goshiki wondered if that was where Shirabu had picked it up. 

Shirabu shifted to the side and said, “Come here.”

Just like before, Goshiki didn’t hesitate. He molded against Shirabu’s side, turning his face up eagerly when Shirabu leaned in to kiss him. There was no urgency in it now. It was slow and soft, a drag of smooth lips, a quick flick of tongue.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” said Shirabu. “It was good. You did great. Was it okay for you?”

Goshiki’s face heated up, which was ridiculous. Considering what they’d just done, he shouldn’t have any embarrassment to spare. “Yes. It was definitely okay.”

They stayed like that, limbs intertwined, until Shirabu peeled them apart and insisted they have another shower. After they’d cleaned up and Shirabu had changed the sheets, Goshiki found himself curled up beside Shirabu again, bare skin against bare skin in the dark room. 

“Wake me up before you leave,” said Shirabu, voice muffled against Goshiki’s shoulder. “I’ll be out until noon, at least. My sleep schedule is messed up from work.”

“That’s okay! You can rest, I won’t bother you. I’ll just slip out.”

Shirabu shook his head. “I want to see you before you go.”

Goshiki smiled to himself and inched a little closer. “Okay. Goodnight, Shirabu-san.”

Shirabu took a chaste kiss. “You know you can call me by my given name, if you want.”

Goshiki considered that. He’d never been told Shirabu’s name, but he’d heard Tendou say it. “Kenji?”

“No,” said Shirabu flatly. “Kenjirou.”

“Kenjirou,” repeated Goshiki. That was better. “I’ll try it.”

Shirabu huffed. He sounded amused. “Goodnight, Tsutomu.”

Goshiki waited for a while, until he was certain Shirabu had fallen asleep. Only then did he murmur, “Goodnight, Kenjirou.”


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me through another fic! ♡ You guys are the best.

Goshiki crawled out of Shirabu’s bed at ten o’clock the next morning. He tiptoed around the apartment, collecting his clothes and redressing, making use of Shirabu’s bathroom just long enough to wash his face and use the spare toothbrush he’d been given.

It had still been there from his last sleepover, and he hoped that meant Shirabu planned to keep inviting him over.

When he was ready to leave, he almost couldn’t bring himself to wake Shirabu. Semi had once said Shirabu looked like an angel. He’d been right, and the sight of a sleeping Shirabu proved that point even more. He was perfect, flawless. Goshiki wanted to reach out and touch his face, but wasn’t sure if he should. Instead he shook Shirabu’s shoulder, gently, until he stirred.

“Hey,” whispered Goshiki. “I’m leaving so I can get back to campus for class.”

Shirabu mumbled something, the words so sticky and jumbled that Goshiki couldn’t decipher them. Still, he made his point by sitting up and dragging Goshiki down for a quick kiss before burrowing back beneath the sheets. 

Goshiki’s smile was too wide. “Goodbye, Shirabu-san.” His thoughts echoed _Kenjirou_ , but he couldn’t bring himself to say it just yet.

He made it to the bedroom door before Shirabu’s voice chased after him.

“You coming to see me tonight?”

Goshiki looked over his shoulder. Shirabu hadn’t moved, but one of his eyes was cracked open. “If you want me to.”

Shirabu’s eyebrow twitched. “See you tonight then.”

Goshiki’s smile grew. “See you then.” He slipped out of the apartment quietly, easing the door shut behind him. He turned to leave, and was frozen in place by a jolt of shock. A pair of wide eyes watched him from across the hallway, reflecting surprise. 

That surprise was quickly replaced by a smug grin as Tendou closed his own apartment door. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. Goshiki’s face went red automatically.

“Well look who it is,” said Tendou, voice layered with faux sweetness. “I wasn’t expecting to see you this morning, Tsutomu-kun.”

“I’m just, umm… going back to campus. For class.” Goshiki didn’t look directly at him. He was afraid what he and Shirabu had done the night before would be stamped across his face. He’d been told more than once that he was an open book.

“Well I’m on my way to the studio. Let’s walk together.” Tendou slung an arm across Goshiki’s shoulders and steered him toward the elevator.

Goshiki fought his nerves all the way down, waiting for the moment when Tendou would tear into him, prying for details in that unnerving way of his, making little quips that were overall harmless but would still leave Goshiki a flustered mess.

To Goshiki’s surprise, Tendou said nothing, even as they stepped out of the building and onto the street. Apparently Tendou’s studio was in the same direction as campus, because they walked side by side toward the end of the block.

“You can come over for movie night again sometime,” said Tendou, as they passed through the crosswalk. It was the first thing he’d said since they’d entered the elevator. “I won’t choose any more horror movies.”

“No! That’s okay. I really don’t mind them.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re too agreeable?” asked Tendou. He ruffled Goshiki’s hair with a grin. “Someone could take advantage of you like that. I’m surprised Kenji-kun isn’t using that. He seems like the type.”

“He is not.” Goshiki pulled away from Tendou’s hand, brow creasing. “Shirabu-san wouldn’t take advantage of me, or anyone else. He isn’t like that.”

Tendou’s smile softened. “Look at you, sticking up for him. That’s adorable.” He propped an elbow on Goshiki’s shoulder as they walked. “I’m kidding, anyway. If I thought he would take advantage of my dearest Tsutomu, I wouldn’t have encouraged you so much.”

Goshiki glanced at him, noticed dark bruises shaped suspiciously like bites down the length of his neck, and quickly looked away again.

“If that ever changes, though,” said Tendou, “you let me know. No one is gonna hurt my Tsutomu if I have anything to say about it.”

It was a weird sort of reassurance, but Goshiki appreciated it all the same. He was fortunate to have a friend like Tendou, despite his unique attitude.

Tendou branched off in a different direction a few minutes later, and Goshiki continued toward campus on his own. It was a nice walk. The breeze was light, the sun was bright, and Goshiki’s thoughts were full of Shirabu. 

He couldn’t have asked for a better morning.

  
  
  
  
  
Two months later, Goshiki played the most important match of his university career.

It was the last game of the season, and also the last game he would play as a student. He was well aware that it may have been the last match he _ever_ played, but the handful of recruiters he’d spoken to over the last month had suggested he may not be finished with volleyball just yet.

But if he couldn’t lead his university team to a win now, he didn’t think he was a good enough ace to move on to anything better.

He’d stressed about it for weeks, and had spent the last few days battling nervous insomnia. But when they’d walked into the stadium and Goshiki had been surrounded by the atmosphere of an official match, his anxiety had melted away like summer snow.

This was where he was supposed to be. He’d always known it, and he finally had a solid chance to prove it.

Their opponents were another Tokyo team, from a university across the city. They’d played against each other a couple of years ago. Goshiki vaguely recalled them, but all the videos he’d watched of the team’s last year of matches had refreshed his memory. 

Shirabu had sat through some of those videos with him, despite his lack of interest. He’d stared at his cellphone the entire time, but he’d glanced up whenever Goshiki pointed out something about the match, and that was all that mattered.

It wasn’t an easy game, but no one had expected that it would be. This was Goshiki’s last chance at victory. The opposing team was constructed mostly of fourth-year university students, so it was their last chance, too. They wanted this win just as badly.

Everyone wanted it, but Goshiki was determined to make sure his team captured it.

They struggled through the first set, made a comeback during the second, and clawed their way to a stalemate at twenty-seven points during the third. Goshiki wiped sweat from his eyes every two minutes, and his legs were weak beneath him, but he didn’t let that slow him down. Every time a ball came his way he was in the air, pushing through his exhaustion, chasing the thrill of victory with bared teeth and burning muscles.

He hit the ground a couple of times, near the end. When he was younger he’d never had the patience to practice receives, until he’d been whipped into shape his first year of university. Still he felt he was behind his teammates, and tried twice as hard to save stray balls as anyone else. It left him with bruises that were already darkening as they approached the thirty-point mark. It would hurt the next day, and it may have hurt right then if he’d had the luxury of thinking about it, but he didn’t.

Every time he fell, he got back up and jumped right back into the game. 

He had to win. For himself, for his team, and for the special section of the audience that was there just for him. He hadn’t seen them, but he knew they were there. He’d heard his name shouted from the stands more than once, in a familiar voice that anyone else would have considered obnoxious. 

It wasn’t obnoxious to Goshiki, though. It gave him the motivation to go harder.

They were at match point, and Koganegawa shouted as he rushed beneath the receive. Maybe he was calling for one of his teammates, or maybe he was just so overwhelmed that his voice spilled out of him like water from a busted pipe. Either way, Goshiki dashed toward the net, his breath scalding his lungs, legs burning as he prepared to jump. He caught sight of Kindaichi doing the same at the other edge of the court, in a perfectly parallel line. The opposing team’s blockers split to cover both of them, and it was the opening they needed.

Goshiki sprang into the air, the ball sailed in a neat arc from Koganegawa’s wrapped fingers, and the spike slammed onto the court across the net, the impact just as loud as the stinging in Goshiki’s palm.

They didn’t wait for the whistle, or for the referees to call the match. It didn’t matter. They’d won, and everything after that was a consuming din of celebration. It was a blur, for a while. Goshiki was accosted by his teammates, with congratulatory slaps on the back that left him gasping for breath and rough hugs peppered with laughter. There were lots of voices, the most clear of them belonging to his coach when he told Goshiki that he did a great job. The players’ friends and family had swarmed the court with praise and compliments. It was all a rush, and Goshiki could focus on nothing until he saw the trio emerge onto the court and start in his direction.

Goshiki didn’t give them time to approach. He darted over, and it took all of his willpower not to seize Shirabu in a hug. 

Shirabu eyed him, lingering on the sweat-damp uniform and wet hair. With a resigned sigh, he spread his arms. “Go ahead.”

Goshiki bounced in place and latched onto him, burying his face in Shirabu’s hair, wondering if his elation would rend him in half. He’d never been so happy in his entire life.

Shirabu hugged him back with a low huff that was probably a laugh. “You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah, sorry.” He tried to ease away.

Shirabu tightened his grip, keeping him in place. “I don’t mind. You did great. Congratulations.”

“Our little Tsutomu!” wailed Tendou, wiping at nonexistent tears as he leaned against Semi. “They grow up so fast!”

“Stop it, you’ll embarrass him,” said Semi, glancing around at the scatter of Goshiki’s teammates.

Koganegawa had paused to stare at them, head tilted to the side in curiosity. His attention was quickly claimed by Kindaichi, who tugged Koganegawa off in the opposite direction, likely as an intentional distraction.

Finally, Goshiki peeled himself away from Shirabu and beamed down at him. “Thank you for coming to my match! He raised his smile to include Tendou and Semi, too. “I can’t believe you’re really here!”

“Of course, Tsutomu,” said Tendou, stepping up for his turn to embrace Goshiki. “The club is suffering without its three best dancers on a Saturday night, but they’ll survive. Maybe if it gets really bad, Wakatoshi will hop on stage. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Goshiki couldn’t picture that, but he didn’t dwell on it. 

“Can we take you out to dinner, to celebrate?” said Semi. He shoved Tendou aside and gave Goshiki a less invasive hug. “If you’d rather go out with your team though, we can pick another time and-”

“No! I mean yes, I’d like to go to dinner! The other guys will go out with their families and since my mom couldn’t come…” He would have been devastated by that at any other time, because she was the only one who’d ever attended his games on a regular basis. 

But this time he wasn’t alone.

“Great!” said Tendou. “We’ll meet you out front. Decide where you want to go. Anything you want in the whole city, on us. And by us, I mean Semi-Semi. He made enough tips last night to buy us all five-star meals.”

Semi rolled his eyes, but didn’t argue. 

“Okay!” said Goshiki. “I’ll meet you there in a few minutes. I have to shower first.”

“Thank god,” mumbled Shirabu. 

Goshiki grinned and resisted the urge to hug him again. “Right! I’ll try to hurry. Ten minutes!” He dashed halfway across the court, turned to wave at them one more time, and ducked through the door to the locker rooms.

Typically after a long match, Goshiki preferred to soak in the hot shower for as long as possible. 

This was an exception.

He breezed through the shower so quickly that most of his teammates had barely made it to the locker room when he was yanking on his spare clothes. He’d only brought his university sweats, which weren’t exactly dinner date material, but he wouldn’t have asked his friends to take him to a fancy restaurant, anyway. It didn’t matter where they went. Food was secondary to good company, and Goshiki’s company was the best.

He stuffed his uniform into his gym bag and flung the strap over his head, leaving it dangling over his shoulder. He would have to drag it around with him for the rest of the night, but he didn’t mind. Nothing seemed like an inconvenience when he was on top of the world.

“Good game, Goshiki.” Kindaichi had stored his bag away in the locker beside Goshiki’s. “I saw some recruiters out in the crowd. You’ll probably be getting calls next week.”

Goshiki’s smile pulled even wider. “I hope so! You played really well, too! The whole team did!”

“Yeah, they did. You going out with your friends?”

“Yes! Would you like to come with us?” Goshiki wouldn’t have extended that invitation to anyone else, but he’d decided Kindaichi was one of his favorite people ever since he’d decided not to judge Goshiki for dating Shirabu.

“Thanks, but no. My parents drove in from Miyagi. I’m going to dinner with them.” He tossed a towel over his shoulder and offered Goshiki a smile. “Have fun, though. I’ll see you later?”

“Yes, of course! Have a nice dinner!” Goshiki said several farewells to assorted teammates as he made his way back to the main area of the stadium. The crowd was thinning out, and his journey to the door was swift. 

His friends were waiting, and through the rest of the night, he couldn’t stop smiling.

  
  
  
  
  
After dinner, drinks, and a short bus ride, they arrived back at the apartment building a little after midnight. Shirabu hadn’t explicitly asked him to stay, but when they’d stepped off the bus, he hadn’t released Goshiki’s hand as they’d started toward the building. Goshiki assumed that was invitation enough.

They branched off toward their respective doors from the hallway. Semi’s goodnight was polite, and Tendou’s was suggestive. That was expected, and Goshiki wasn’t even embarrassed. It had gotten more difficult for Tendou to make him blush over the past couple of months, but he never stopped trying.

There was no awkwardness about taking up space in Shirabu’s apartment, not anymore. Goshiki tossed his bag by the couch and dipped into a kitchen cabinet for a glass so he could pour some water. He rinsed off the lip of the glass when he was finished and left it upside-down in the drainer, the way Shirabu liked it. 

Shirabu was finicky about the state of his apartment, and Goshiki tried to meet his standards. It was difficult, and he knew he messed things up more often than Shirabu pointed out, but he thought he was getting better at it. 

“I’m showering before bed,” said Shirabu, already stripping his shirt off before he passed through the bedroom door. “Someone got sweat all over me. I can smell it.”

Goshiki smiled at him, sheepish. “Sorry.”

Shirabu waved off the apology and disappeared into the room beyond. Goshiki lingered, turning off all the lights and locking the deadbolt, before he followed.

Shirabu had left the bathroom door open, as always. The sound of the shower was like white noise, constant and soothing. Goshiki crept onto the bathroom tile and leaned against the sink, watching Shirabu through the slowly steaming glass of the shower.

“Hey, Shirabu-san?” He hadn’t yet mastered the art of calling Shirabu by his given name; not unless they were doing something much more intimate.

“Hmm?”

“Can I join you?”

Shirabu wiped away some steam with his forearm, peering at Goshiki through the glass. “I thought you showered at the stadium.” His voice echoed slightly, caught in the close walls.

“Well yes, but I like it better here, with you.”

Shirabu’s subtle eye roll was paired with a subtler smile. “Sure.”

Goshiki disrobed quickly and folded his clothes on the corner of the sink rather than leaving them in a pile on the floor. A few seconds later he stepped into the heat of the shower, warm hands pulling him close and coaxing him beneath the hot spray. Goshiki sighed as the water cascaded down his shoulders, relaxing his match-weary muscles.

Shirabu’s hands were even more relaxing, massaging down to Goshiki’s shoulderblades, thumbs pressing along the curve of his spine. Goshiki slumped against the tile wall and sighed, content.

“That really was a good match,” said Shirabu. He leaned against Goshiki’s back, rising to press a kiss just below his ear. “I’m proud of you.”

Goshiki tried to ignore the way that compliment made his entire body hot. “Thank you. Thanks for coming too, you didn’t have to. I know you always work on Saturdays.”

Shirabu shrugged. “I haven’t missed a weekend since I started at the club. One night off won’t bankrupt me.”

Goshiki sighed as Shirabu’s hands traveled higher, edging into the back of his hair and scratching at his scalp. “It means a lot to me. That you were there, I mean.”

“It was important to you, which means it was important to me.” Shirabu’s hands fell away as he reached for his shampoo. “If Ushijima had said I couldn’t have the night off, I would’ve skipped out on work anyway. He wouldn’t fire me. I’m too valuable.”

Goshiki laughed, and moved to the side, out of Shirabu’s way. He watched Shirabu scrub his hair and then his body, because he knew that Shirabu didn’t mind the attention. Maybe he’d learned shamelessness from his career as a dancer, or maybe he’d always been that way. There were still things Goshiki didn’t know about Shirabu, a lot of them, but he intended to uncover them bit by bit.

After they dried off, Goshiki slipped back into his underwear and sat on the closed toilet lid as Shirabu dried his hair. Goshiki talked about the match, but there wasn’t much else to say about it. He’d covered all the highlights during dinner, multiple times. He expected Shirabu to be sick of hearing about it, but he didn’t seem annoyed. He was rarely ever annoyed by Goshiki’s ramblings, which was a veritable miracle.

They crawled into bed together like it was a practiced routine, and lately, it had become one. Goshiki stayed in his dorm only when he had an early class or early practice, but otherwise he was at Shirabu’s. At first he’d been concerned that he would overstay his welcome, but Shirabu insisted he didn’t mind, and Goshiki had learned that Shirabu wouldn’t lie about something like that to spare his feelings. If Shirabu ever decided he didn’t want Goshiki around, he would say so.

Goshiki hoped that never happened.

They curled up together in the middle of the bed, long limbs wrapped around warm ribs. Goshiki nestled into Shirabu’s hair and inhaled the clean scent of citrus. It was familiar, comforting. Goshiki had borrowed the same shampoo when he’d first started staying over, but recently he’d brought his own shower products to leave at Shirabu’s apartment. Shirabu had cleared out a drawer for him too, to stow away a few extra changes of clothes. Goshiki felt more at home here than he’d ever felt in his dorm, even though he’d lived in it for the past four years.

The location didn’t matter. He knew that. It was Shirabu that made it feel like home.

“I have a present for you,” said Shirabu. He was lying half on top of Goshiki, burrowed beneath the sheets. “I just remembered.”

“What kind of present?”

“A congratulations-on-winning present.”

Goshiki perked up. He pushed up on his elbows, blinking down at Shirabu in the near darkness of the room. “Can I have it?”

Shirabu hummed. “I’m too comfortable to move. It’ll have to wait.”

Goshiki flopped back down with a huff. “Shirabu-san!”

Shirabu laughed under his breath as he rolled away. He stretched off the edge of the bed to reach into his nightstand, and Goshiki was so conditioned to the contents of that drawer that he was half-hard by the time Shirabu crawled back over.

“Here.” Shirabu pushed something into his hand. 

It was cool metal, and it took Goshiki an uncertain moment to realize what it was. He squinted at it in the darkness, grazing a thumb along an edge that felt like teeth. “It’s… a key?”

Shirabu hummed an affirmative. He traced his fingers over Goshiki’s bare ribs in a slow caress. “Yeah, to the apartment.”

“ _This_ apartment?”

“Obviously.”

Goshiki squinted, trying to see Shirabu’s face. The shadows were too dense, so he stretched to the side and slapped at the end table until he found the lamp. Both of them winced from the light, but Goshiki recovered quickly. He sat up, the key tucked in a loose fist, and stared at Shirabu. “Why?”

“You don’t have to take it.” Shirabu rolled onto his back, his hair falling neatly across the ash gray pillowcase. “I just thought it would be easier, since you’re here so often.”

“Is… that okay?” asked Goshiki. “If I come over too much-”

“You don’t, Tsutomu. I like having you here. You know that.”

Goshiki chewed at his lip. “I like being here, too.”

“If you have that, you won’t be left sitting out in the hall, waiting for me to get home. You can come over whenever you want. I don’t care.” He hesitated and added, “Just keep it away from Tendou. He’ll make his own copy and I’ll have to change the locks.”

Goshiki grinned. He placed the key on the end table, carefully. He would add it to his keyring first thing the following morning. “Thank you, Shirabu-san.”

“And I thought,” said Shirabu, as Goshiki reached for the lamp, “if you wanted, that you could use it permanently after you graduate next week. You can move your stuff in anytime.”

Goshiki went completely still, arm still outstretched, fingers caught in the glow of the lamp. He swiveled back around, slowly, to gawk at Shirabu. “What?”

“You heard me.” Shirabu turned into the pillow, concealing half his face. “You don’t have to, obviously, but I know you were planning to move back in with your mom until you found a place. You can still do that, but if you want an option-”

“Yes!” he said it too loud, but he was too excited to care. He scrambled close to Shirabu, the entire bed shaking as he rolled onto him. “Of course I want to move in! I can’t believe you really want me to!”

Shirabu fidgeted beneath him, but didn’t try and throw him off. “It just seems convenient. You’re not the worst boyfriend I’ve ever had.”

Goshiki pressed his face into the side of Shirabu’s neck, hiding his grin. “I can’t wait! It’ll be so much fun!”

Shirabu wriggled one more time, but seemed to give in. He looped his arms around Goshiki’s waist, pulling him close. “When you get scouted to the national team, you’re paying half the rent, though.”

“Yes, of course!”

Shirabu snorted and pressed his lips against Goshiki’s jaw. “Get off me. It’s late and we need to sleep.”

Goshiki didn’t move. “I love you, Shirabu-san.” He’d said it before, but when the words left his lips, it still felt as if he was plummeting from the highest peak of a mountain, trusting Shirabu to catch him before he reached the ground. The first time he’d said it had been by accident, and the two seconds that had dragged by before Shirabu had returned the sentiment had been the most terrifying of Goshiki’s life.

Shirabu sighed and kissed him again, just over his cheekbone. “I love you too. Now move.”

Goshiki did as he was told, rolling over to turn off the lamp before curling close to Shirabu again. Shirabu threw an arm over him and pressed his cheek against Goshiki’s shoulder, mumbling under his breath until Goshiki yanked the sheets up higher.

The club was closed on Sundays, and Goshiki was free of practice after their final match. They could spend the entire day together, and even if they had to attend their individual responsibilities after that, Goshiki had suddenly been given the gift of more time with Shirabu. It didn’t matter how much of it they spent together; Goshiki always wanted more.

“Hey, Shirabu-san?”

“Hmm?”

“You said it was a congratulations present,” whispered Goshiki. “What if we’d lost the match?”

“Then I would’ve kept the key and given it to someone else instead.”

“Shirabu-san!” Goshiki tried to sound offended, but his smile leaked into his voice.

Shirabu huffed. “It would have been a consolation prize, I guess. I didn’t think it through. I knew you would win.”

Goshiki wrapped an arm around Shirabu’s shoulders and pulled him closer. “Thank you.” He didn’t say for what, exactly. He couldn’t have articulated everything for which he owed Shirabu gratitude. There was too much. 

Shirabu knew, anyway. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Thank you, too.”

They fell asleep like that, bundled up in each other’s arms. 

Goshiki planned to end every night that way, for as long as Shirabu would let him.


End file.
